The New Race
by runick4
Summary: Harry Potter thought that he was a normal boy. Until a school trip to Glastonbury Tor reveals an ancestry and universe far greater than what he expected. Revamped version of Last Ancient. Not Slash
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Glastonbury, England

October 13, 1989

Harry shivered slightly as he waited in line with the rest of his grade 3 class. He wasn't the only one shivering in the brisk morning air, but he was one of the only kids not wearing a jacket.

He did have on a sweatshirt from a cheap thrift shop, so that the Dursleys could keep up minimal appearances, but it did little to shelter him from the bitter cold that passed through the thin weaves of the material. He gave a furtive glance to Dudley who was strutting around in a brand new windbreaker meant for an overweight teenager, not for the first time wondering what it was about him that the Dursleys hated so much.

He quickly looked away when he noticed Aunt Petunia coming back from her gossip session, a slight scowl marring her face as she looked his way before turning and fussing over her 'precious duddykins.' Harry held in a snicker at the name, not wanting to bring his overweight cousin's attention upon him. His arms were still bruised from the last session of 'Harry hunting.'

This was the first time that he had ever been on any sort of trip outside of Little Whinging, and after the blistering lecture he had received this morning, it was likely to be one of the only ones that he would have for years to come. The entire third grade of his school were here on the trip, and his relatives had decided that it would cast far too much suspicion on them if they refused to let him go on the trip with everyone else.

Once the teachers had finally organized the multitude of children coming off the coaches, they fell in line behind their teachers. For Harry, that was Ms. Wagner, a thin and strict-looking woman, who, despite appearances, was quite nice to her students. At least those that behaved.

Dudley was always picking on the other children in their class, and though he and the few friends he had in their class tried their best to blame most of their misdeeds on Harry, Ms. Wagner had the sharp eyes of an owl. Even when she had her back fully turned to the board, she knew exactly who was misbehaving, and would give the transgressors a harsh stare before returning to her lesson.

To Harry, she was the nicest person in the world. She was the one who let him into the school library during recess so that he could read to his heart's content. She was the one that helped him up after Dudley and his friends pummeled him into the ground, always asking if it was his cousin that had hurt him while Harry refused to say a word.

The last thing Harry wanted to be was a tattletale, no matter how hypocritical it was that Dudley had always been one and never got punished for it. But Harry knew that if he admitted that Dudley and his little gang had been punching him around, then he would get in serious trouble once he got back to Number 4. It didn't help that the school principal was an old friend of his uncle's and would rarely give Dudley more than a slap on the wrist, no matter what he did.

Harry quickly followed his classmates when he noticed them start moving from the parking lot to the beginning of the trail. Many of his classmates were still yawning, after all it had taken them nearly three hours to get here, and they had all arrived at school around six in the morning.

The tour guide was a happy looking woman around thirty to thirty five years old. She was dressed casually in jeans and a loose shirt, the brisk weather not seeming to bother her at all.

"Hello everyone, my name is Emily, and I'm here to show you all the magical town of Glastonbury." She paused and gave a look around, frowning slightly. "We are still waiting for another group of students, so I think I'll start by telling you a few stories while we wait. How does that sound?"

She got a few sleepy "sure"s and "yes"s and smiled. "Alright, well, to start, can anyone tell me what they know about Glastonbury?"

"It's a town." Came one cheeky answer, and a smattering of giggles followed. Emily smiled good-naturedly at the joke. "Yes, it _is_ a town, what else?"

"It's really old?" Another one asked/answered. Emily nodded appreciatively. "Yes, that's right; this town has been here since at least 800 AD, and probably a little before that."

Harry twitched slightly as he heard the sound of buses pulling into the parking lot behind them. Several of the other students turned to stare at the new arrivals as they started forming themselves into lines.

Emily frowned as she looked at her watch again. "This is the third time this week that he's late..." She sighed under her breath. As close as he was even Harry had a hard time understanding her, mostly relying on her lips to read what she was actually saying.

 **"** **For those of you who are just joining us, my name is Emily..." Here she gestured at her colorful blue-green nametag, "...and I will be giving you all a tour of Glastonbury today, starting with the beautiful Glastonbury Abbey about five minutes that way."**

She pointed roughly towards the north, and started walking at an average pace. The student lines followed, most of them dissolving into irregular clumps of students while chatting loudly, others, such as Harry's line, doing the same, until Ms. Wagner gave them all a sharp-eyed look and they quietened almost immediately.

From there, the tour degenerated into a long tedious process for Harry, as their guide explained the history of the town and its inhabitants. For him, History had always been boring. Even the interesting stories that Emily was telling about the legends and myths surrounding this place made him scoff inside.

As far back as he could remember, he had been told that there was no such thing as magic. And though he despised his relatives, subconsciously, he believed what he had been taught. There had been no Father Christmas and no Easter bunny in the Dursley house. Anything that had the slightest magical connotation at all was belittled and then ignored in the Dursley household.

Harry did appreciate the town itself, though. Glastonbury had a certain rustic atmosphere to it, friendly people (though he wondered how much of that friendliness was faked in order to attract more visitors), and the smells coming off of the various food shops and street vendors was enough to make his mouth water. Not that he'd be able to sample any of those treats.

Before he knew it, it was lunchtime. Harry mentally grimaced as Aunt Petunia gave him a small sandwich with old ham and suspiciously green cheese in a plastic bag and he glumly sat down on a bench far away from Dudley and his Aunt.

His chosen seat was in the middle of the other group's area. He shrugged to himself and kept his spot. If one of the parent volunteers had a problem with him sitting there, then he would move, but not before.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the first years sitting at a table without any food. He frowned as he looked at the boy, noting the frayed clothing and cheap shoes that must have been worn and discarded by two different people in succession long before he received him. The boy was looking longingly at the other first years in his group as they ate, not seeming to have anything for himself.

Harry knew that feeling very well. Whenever his relatives wanted to punish him they would lock him in the cupboard without food for a day, and only the bare minimum of water. He sighed to himself before making a small gesture to get the boy's attention and then stood up from his table to go where the rest of his class was sitting.

He glanced back, seeing that his half-sandwich was gone from the table, and smiled. Even if he went hungrier than normal today, that other boy would get some food for lunch as well.

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Once lunch was finished, they moved into their groups again. They had already toured St. Benedict's Church along with Glastonbury Abbey, and were moving slower after having just eaten lunch.

Harry was now glad that it had been so brisk in the morning, a thermometer in a passing window told him that it was now 30 Centigrade (86 F). Dudley was sweating like the pig he was, and whined that he wanted a T-shirt. Harry rolled his eyes as his aunt asked the tour guide to stop in the shops for a bit and though she was quite subtle about it, he could tell that Emily was slightly exasperated, though she did grant the request.

Their final destination was the most out of the way, but thankfully for the sanity of the parents chaperoning, not too far. Of course, Dudley started complaining the very moment they left the town and he saw the hill they were to climb, but for the most part he was ignored by the other parents, who sent him the occasional annoyed glance, as well as Aunt Petunia.

Harry enjoyed the trip though. There was something different about the grassy hill compared to the town before. Almost as if there was something _more_ there, just out of sight.

Harry shook his head. He was being ridiculous again. It was just a stone tower, there was nothing special about it.

He half-heartedly listened to Emily explain several legends of the Tor, mostly for the benefit of the listening parents. The fact that according to legend, the Tor was a link to the underworld that King Arthur himself had used and then returned from, in order to fight an invading enemy, was somewhat interesting, but still ridiculous.

Despite his belief that there could not be something special about the Tor, the strange _moreness_ (for lack of a better term) seemed to be increasing in strength the closer they came to it. By the time they had reached it Harry felt as if he were almost suffocating, but as he looked around, the only other person that seemed to be showing any sort of adverse reaction to the Tor was the same boy he gave half of his meager sandwich to.

 _Must have been the sandwich._ He thought to himself as he unconsciously began to move away from the rest of the group. There was something that he had to see...

Almost as if in a trance, he kept moving forward, a small hum building up in the air around him before he disappeared.

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Joshua was glad for the sandwich the other boy had left on the table for him, even if it hadn't tasted very good. He'd seen the other boy's face while he was eating it, and had also seen the boy get it from the woman who looked like a rail. The rail-woman's other son was really fat, and got everything that he wanted, which made Joshua feel a little sick inside.

Joshua was an orphan. His parents had been killed in a freak car accident when he was only four, and frankly it had been a miracle that he had survived without so much as a scratch when he should been crushed by the Lorry that ran headlong into their car. .

Foster care was not a happy place for him. He had seen other children adopted, and always felt the stirrings of jealousy because he had not once been chosen, or even looked at. No one looked at him. No one seemed to even care that he existed.

No one, at least until that boy had left him half his lunch.

Joshua was not ashamed to admit that he was watching the other boy as they traveled up the hill. For some strange reason he felt like he knew that boy, in the back of his mind he recognized him somehow, even though they had never met.

He watched him as the boy started acting strange, walking away from the group and into the tower itself. Even stranger was the fact that no one else seemed to notice the boy leaving the group, not even Emily the tour guide, and he had literally walked right past her as she started to speak.

He watched in fear as that strange feeling that he had had all the way up to the tower intensified for an instant, and the other boy disappeared into thin air.

The orphan from Wool's Orphanage watched as Harry Potter disappeared from the minds and eyes of everyone but him, and quickly backed away from the tower before it took him as well.

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Harry came to consciousness slowly, feeling like he was laying on concrete. As he blearily opened his eyes he gaped at his surroundings. He was in some kind of cave. It was very hard for him to see, as the only light was a slight greenish glow by what appeared to be water. He slowly got up, feeling a strange tingling in his limbs, but ignoring it for now.

He hated dark places, absolutely _hated_ them. Sleeping in a cold, dark space for most of his life had desensitized him to any fear of the dark, but that did not mean that he wanted to be in there in the first place. He hated not being able to see around him, to know if something was going to attack him. It was a lesson that he had learned all too well from his cousin; if you did not pay attention to your surroundings, then it was much easier for you to get hurt.

Slowly, he shuffled forward, ears straining to hear something, anything, that could be a threat to him. His imagination, the only thing that had kept him sane after all these years of isolation, was going wild with images of wolves or bears or even monsters that lived in caves and ate innocent travelers. The strange green glow never wavered or diminished, and squinting in the gloom, he wished that he could see better. He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing from experience that it would help him adjust to the darkness that much quicker. When he opened them again, the green light seemed to have spread, as he could suddenly see much better in the gloomy room.

Vaguely, he could see the shape of something sticking out of a pedestal, it looked almost like…a sword?

A bit nonplussed, Harry moved closer to the pedestal. A low humming sound soon reverberated around him, and he jumped back as a white light filled the room. Harry blinked in complete confusion and growing fear as an old man with a long white beard and staff came into being.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, backing away slowly as he searched for anything that he could conceivably use to defend himself with. There was nothing except loose rocks….and the sword behind the man.

Merlin frowned at the hostility, before he gestured around him. "My name is Moros, but you may know me as Merlin Ambrosius."

Harry stared at the man and gave off a hysterical laugh that poorly hid how scared he really was. He was stuck in a cave with an old madman "No, really, who are you?"

The man's face darkened, which sent Harry back another few steps. "I already told you who I was, boy, and I do not appreciate you insinuating otherwise."

Harry narrowed his eyes. He hated being called _boy_. That was all that Uncle Vernon called him all the time. "There is no such thing as magic, my Aunt and Uncle told me so." Not that he would ever admit that he was quoting something that they had said to him.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I never said that I was a wizard; that was what the dirt-skinned fools of the time thought I was. No, I was a man of science, with more knowledge of the true nature of the universe than you could possibly comprehend!"

Harry was glad that he had spent so much time in the library, otherwise he would have likely been confused by the man's almost archaic mode of speech.

"Dirt skinned?" Harry asked. Was this guy a racist or something?

"Those ignorant morons who refused to bathe and slept in the straw of their animals." Merlin explained. Harry made a face at the thought of never bathing. That sounded _disgusting_.

"So…" Harry began hesitantly. "Why am I here?" The last thing that he remembered was standing outside of the Tor, and suddenly he ended up in this cave? How did that happen?

"You are here because my tower sensed that you were a child with _potential_ , one that I have been searching for for nearly a thousand years."

Harry made a strangled noise. A thousand years?! What was so special about him specifically? And how the heck had this man lived so very long?

He nervously cleared his throat. "Why me? I'm not special."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "You are very special indeed, young Harry, but you will not understand why unless I share with you my story." He sighed, then made a gesture. "Sit down, young Harry, and let me tell you the story of my people."

Harry looked around himself in confusion, then yelped as he realized that there was a simple wooden chair behind him. That had _not_ been there before.

Merlin chuckled as he sat down in his own chair, and Harry followed suit reluctantly.

"Well, to start, I should tell you that I was born on a planet in another galaxy, on another planet known as Lantea, named for our people."

Harry stared at the man, and suddenly had the feeling that everything he knew about the world was wrong. Somehow, though, he knew that the man before him was telling him the truth.

"My people were known as the Lanteans, and yes, I know the name of our planet was horribly unimaginative, but it had been our home for millions of years…"

Harry felt like his mouth was going to be permanently open at this point. _Millions_ of years?! Human civilization, as far as anyone knew and could confirm, had only existed for maybe 12,000 years. This was beyond insane.

"Our people had once lived upon Earth, but we were forced to flee this galaxy, Avalon, and settle on the planet Lantea after a terrible plague afflicted us, one that our medicine, no matter how advanced, could not cure. Upon leaving this galaxy, we wiped it clean of all life, later reseeding it so that the terrible plague could not take root again."

Harry was just nodding along at this point. He felt like his brain was going to overheat with the information that was now being shared with him.

Then, Merlin spoke of the great war with the Wraith, a powerful race of nigh-immortal creatures that literally sucked out the life of their victims using their hands. That war was eventually lost, and the Lanteans fled from the Pegasus galaxy back to Avalon. Some of them resettled on Earth while trying to avoid notice from the inhabitants of the now populated planet, many discarding their technology out of despair and self hate, while others decided to ascend, leaving their bodies behind and becoming beings of pure thought and energy.

Merlin had been one of the few to save as much of their technology as he could, safeguarding it in hidden vaults located all over the world. He had then ascended, using his power to secretly change the descendants of their people into what they were today.

It was here that Harry broke in. "These people are still around?"

Merlin nodded almost hesitantly and Harry wondered why. "These people had abilities that both surpassed and fell beneath what we, the Lanteans, were once capable of. They have the ability to alter matter, to affect the laws of the universe in ways that do not make sense to us."

Harry threw up his hands. "Then why haven't people heard of them before?"

Merlin coughed lightly, then continued as if he had not been interrupted. "These people came to call themselves Wizards and Witches, and they hid themselves away from the rest of the world after the Witch burnings and other such violence against them grew too common."

"Witches and Wizards are real?" He managed to ask, his voice easily betraying his

amusement.

Merlin nodded resignedly. "They have no idea of their true history, and when I was last with them, they were arrogant, much like we were before we fought and lost our war against the Wraith. I tried to show them the proper way, but they did not listen, not really. They abused their power, creating great creatures and horrible monsters that likely still plague the world today."

"But I've never heard of anything like that..." Harry said unsurely.

"Really?" Merlin looked almost amused. "You have never heard of dragons?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed, trying to form the words. _Dragons were real?_

Merlin's mouth twitched. "Yes, there are many things in the world that have been hidden by the wizards." Then his face smoothed out. "But that is not why you are here."

Harry gave the man a confused look. "Then why…"

"Did I bring you here?" Merlin asked.

Harry nodded.

"Simply put, you are the first of our descendants with a strong enough expression of our genetic makeup to come here before becoming completely ruined by the provincial mentality of the Wizards. "

"What do you mean?"

Merlin rolled his eyes in remembered exasperation. "They believed, and still believe, that they are blessed by Mother Earth, and as such are intrinsically better than 'non-magical' people."

"How do you know…" It was then Harry realized something. "Earlier, you said that you had ascended, that you weren't here on Earth anymore...why did you come back?"

Merlin grimaced slightly. "I came back because I learned of a threat to the races of this galaxy that could not be ignored, a threat in the form of _other_ ascended."

Harry openly showed his confusion to this statement.

"But you said that they didn't want to interfere."

Merlin mentally grimaced as he realized that he would have to hide part of the truth from the boy. "I was afraid that in the future another hostile race, such as the Wraith, would learn to do the same, and that there would be no stopping them if they had sufficient numbers to overwhelm us."

Harry nodded, a little shaken.

"At the same time that I descended, I discovered a young man named Arthur, and believed that he had a great deal of potential. I advised him as he grew older, while I also began making preparations for the creation of an anti-ascended device."

Here, his expression darkened again. "The other ascended were not happy with my new research, so I created a device to hide myself from their sight. At the same time, I realized that the abilities of the Wizards and Witches were growing in power, and that they would need someone to guide them lest they destroy themselves out of ignorance. So, I cloned myself, giving him the task of working on the weapon while I remained here on Earth and pretended to have abandoned my work on the device. Since then, I have mostly been in stasis, using this tower that I once helped build to look for those with the potential to revive my race.

Harry had a small headache from the sheer amount of worldview changing information that he was trying to hold in his head, so he could be excused for being a little slow on the uptake.

"You want me….to..." He stuttered.

"I want you to be my apprentice, young Harry, to be the new face of our people in this galaxy and to bring your people to enlightenment with us."

"No pressure." Harry mumbled, suddenly very glad for the chair he was sitting in.

Merlin gave him a small, but heartfelt smile. "Like all wizards, the potential to use your latent abilities lies within you, albeit stronger than most because of your greater expression of our original genes. Few of the wizards have even come close to learning how to properly use these gifts to their fullest potential when it is so hard to do so. In general, the usage of their magic has made the 'wizards' and 'witches' complacent and lazy, and so they refuse to develop themselves further, to improve and innovate on what their ancestors discovered and honed long ago."

Upon seeing the glassy-eyed look on Harry's face, Merlin chuckled, before standing up, his joints cracking quietly. "I think that I've given you quite enough to think about for today, and now I would like to give you something."

There was a small flash of light, and a small silver chain with a triquetra pendant attached appeared on top of the pedestal.

"This pendant will allow you to come back here whenever you wish." Merlin explained. "I have many things that I would like to teach you further, but I know that you will need to get going soon."

Harry gave the man an unreadable look, his familiar mask slipping back on, now that he was leaving.

Still, Merlin could tell that Harry was confused, and probably unhappy with having to leave so soon.

"Until next time." Merlin said softly, and Harry felt a strange pulling apart sensation before he disappeared from the cave.

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Aunt Petunia hadn't been very pleased with his disappearing act, but he had a feeling that it was more because he had managed to come back and not because he had been lost in the first place. He ignored her disdain for him, as usual, and followed the rest of his school back to the buses when it was time to leave, noticing that the other group was nowhere to be seen.

His mind was elsewhere, focusing on the incredible things that Merlin had told him. To think that there was an entire hidden world of witches and wizards was mind-boggling, especially since if they were as arrogant as Merlin had described them, then he would have thought that they would have tried to assert their dominance over the regular population by now.

And then there was the whole 'you-are-a-member-of-a-race-that-is-millions-of-years-old' side of things. The thought that humanity, as a people, had been created by another, older version of themselves was something that was hard to fully grasp. The level of technology to just casually create a sentient race... He shook his head.

He gently fingered the pendant around his neck, tangible proof that what he had experienced was real, and wondered yet again how Aunt Petunia had not spotted it yet. She was usually the first in the household to notice if there was anything he had on his person that she believed he didn't _deserve_. But when she looked at him, her eyes seemed to slide off of his neck and onto his face. It was incredibly strange.

The days that followed after that fateful field trip were pretty much the same as always. The Dursleys gave him his chores, he made sure to have worse grades than Dudley, and he continued to try and keep attention off of himself at all times when at school. He was at the point of seriously considering just skipping school altogether, but he knew that would get him in trouble, and then that in turn would make his relatives even angrier than usual at him for the hassle of the school calling them and bringing unwanted attention upon them.

Not to mention that he didn't want to disappoint Ms. Wagner.

It wasn't until Halloween that he had a chance to get out of the house. He grasped the pendant tightly, feeling a bit foolish for doing so, but his fears were put to rest when he felt that same strange feeling come over him again, and he disappeared from the house.

End Chapter

Authors Note:

So Here is the revamped version of Last Ancient, as promised. There are a number of changes that were made and are being made in this story to make more sense, along with hopefully much better character development.

The next chapter should be coming along fairly soon, within a few weeks, but work and travel make me unsure about when any other chapters after that will be ready.

Also, Thank you to my Beta Joe Lawyer, who managed to fit working on this into his very busy schedule

Posted 7/28/2015


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Chapter 2**

* * *

Chapter 2

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

June 23, 1991

Harry hummed to himself happily as he walked down from what was once Dudley's second bedroom, but was now his.

Ever since he had met Merlin under Glastonbury Tor, his life had improved to the point that he wondered if the past had been merely a bad dream. Sure, the Dursleys still thoroughly disliked him and made that clear nearly everyday, but that was fine by him. The feeling was entirely mutual.

Ever since Merlin had taken him in, it was as if he had the father figure that he never knew he had wanted or missed.

Not that he would ever tell Merlin that.

Merlin was a harsh taskmaster. Nearly every free moment he had from the Dursleys he would spend in the company of the Ancient man. It still boggled the mind to have someone who had a physical age of over a thousand years, even if the majority of said years was spent in metabolic stasis. And according to Merlin, before the fall of Atlantis, there had been some members of their race who had lived that long without any stasis at all, only the maintenance and care of advanced healing technology. He was told it was more of a personal _choice_ , than anything, to live that long and most did not want to.

In the years since meeting him, Merlin had insisted on following the tried and true Atlantis standard curriculum of learning. Meaning that Harry was far behind what was considered normal, and had to cram a ridiculous amount of information into his head in a relatively short period. He had asked to use one of the knowledge repositories that Merlin had once mentioned, but the man was adamant that using those devices was not a good habit to get into, and that he would learn better if he was taught the normal way. Sadist.

Harry didn't voice it, but he was sure that the man was thoroughly enjoying pounding his mind and body into the ground. Despite his age, Merlin was an avid practitioner of hand-to-hand combat, and the style he had been taught was designed to be used against much stronger and faster opponents, such as the Wraith. It had components of several Earth based martial arts, and required a good deal of mental training and situational awareness.

If he had to choose a style that he believed was most similar to the crashing wave style, he would say that it would have to be Aikido. It utilized a dizzying number of throws and strikes that used the body of an attacker against them while throwing them or pushing them away, and if failing to do that, aimed to cripple the attacker by going for their body's weak points while they were at it. Such a style required lightning fast reflexes and speed, which was what Merlin focused on training the most, along with the strength of his core muscles.

The style was meant to be used as a last resort though, to give a practitioner a window to draw a weapon to finish off the enemy. In Merlin's time as Moros, he had been one of the few who actively practiced the style since he was a child, most others not seeing the need. However, it had once saved his life during the Wraith War and had proven its worth, when he was trapped by a Wraith that had stunned and captured him and his small team. Wraith were tough, but not tough enough that dozens of strong, precise strikes to their soft tissues wouldn't temporarily cripple them.

Harry was 'competent' in the style, but he knew that he was _far_ from being a master. He would never be able to match the hundreds of years of experience that Merlin had in combat, but Merlin was determined to make up for that deficiency by training him until he could barely stand, then training him some more. In the man's own words, "If you can fight competently when you are exhausted, just think how well you will fight when you are at full strength."

As was true of most things, Merlin was right. Training him to the point of exhaustion, then using technology to accelerate his healing while he rested, afforded him an incredible rate of improvement.

 _Improvement_ that was not appreciated by Dudley or Uncle Vernon. At all.

Harry wasn't a violent or vengeful person by nature, in spite of the hostile environment that he had been raised in. But after being pushed around by his cousin and his uncle for so many years, he couldn't deny the feeling of immense satisfaction that came with ducking a swing from his uncle and using that redirected momentum to land the whale of a man flat on his back, winded.

His cousin still attempted to push him around sometimes, and it amused Harry that all he had to do was merely give his cousin a _look_ for him to back off. Getting thrown onto a hard street a half dozen times in as many days would do that to a person.

His school marks had also improved drastically. Without the worry of his uncle's reaction, Harry could do as well as he liked and now work to the best of his ability. His improvement reached such levels that his teachers had accused him of cheating.

Harry scoffed to himself as he walked downstairs and began to gather the pans and bacon strips. It wasn't his fault that the material he was learning in class was so far behind what Merlin was teaching him it wasn't even funny.

Today was Dudley's birthday, and though he wasn't obligated to anymore, Harry cooked. Mostly because his aunt could barely keep from burning toast, let alone make an actual meal. To be honest, Harry found the sense of purpose in it pleasing, even if his relatives didn't appreciate the effort and skill he put into it.

Harry sat down with the rest of his relatives, though they did not engage him in their conversation about the trip they were taking to the zoo. To be honest, Harry had no interest in going to the zoo. Merlin said that he was at the age that it was safe for him to start learning the basics of his ancestor's abilities, but that it was rare for a person to devote time to more than two of the disciplines at once.

Somehow, Harry knew that he was going to end up learning at least three, mostly because Merlin would not let him settle for the standards of others.

Harry heard the mail enter through the mail slot and stood to retrieve it without being prompted. He was almost finished anyway.

He gathered the pile of letters, looking over them as was his habit, and frowned at the sight of the envelope made of heavy parchment with bright green ink on its surface, addressed to him. There was a strange feeling to the paper, something that he could not identify, much like that sensation of there being something hidden in plain sight, the same feel he had gotten when he had first gone to the Glastonbury Tor.

He slid the letter addressed to him behind the large vase that his aunt kept outside of the kitchen before dropping the rest of the mail next to where his uncle was standing and walking back out of the kitchen and grabbing the letter.

As soon as he was out of sight of his relatives, he grasped the triqueta pendant under his shirt and willed it to activate.

* * *

A second later and he was back in Merlin's chamber under the Tor.

Merlin appeared not a minute after he did, walking out of what was once a hidden passageway in the rock before he and Harry had started to clean up the area around the Tor.

The once uneven cave walls had been smoothed with judicious use of the teleporter technology. Smooth limestone and granite were now decorated with soft orbs of light that somehow left no shadows, but were not so bright that they were painful to the eye.

"Hello Harry." The stern visage of the man softened slightly. "Are you ready to begin the next stage of your training?"

Harry nodded, then took the letter and presented it to Merlin, bowing his head slightly in respect to his teacher.

Merlin frowned lightly and gestured with his hand, an unseen scanner taking the information present inside of the letter and compiling it into a virtual format without opening it. Merlin handed the letter back to Harry to open for himself.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The second page was the obligatory list of necessary materials, and as hard as he tried, Harry couldn't keep his eyebrows from rising as the list of materials continued downward.

"So this is the society you told me about?" The question was unnecessary, but Harry still could not believe that there would exist a people that insisted on calling themselves 'Witches and Wizards.'

Merlin nodded, having perused his own copy of the letter. It was both very amusing and very sad that a race with so much potential would limit themselves to an even lower technological standard than those without their natural abilities. Then again, the exotic particles responsible for many of their abilities would likely interfere or destroy any technology that was not properly shielded against them. That could certainly stifle development at their present stage of development.

"You have known that this day would be coming eventually Harry, as your parents were most likely a part of this society. It only makes sense that you would become a part of this culture as well."

"I know that." Harry sighed to himself. "But these people have not even explained how I am to find these items, or even the school."

"Then how will you fix this problem?" Merlin asked him.

Harry mentally rolled his eyes. Merlin was always asking him how he could solve problems on his own, without offering any advice to him. To the man, everything could be turned into a learning experience.

He looked over the letter one more time and noted the last line. "We await your owl?"

Merlin smirked lightly at his apprentice's dumbfounded expression. "If I remember correctly that practice only began a few years before my 'death' in wizarding literature. Once you return to the Dursleys you will likely find an owl waiting outside for your response."

"But how do they…" Harry trailed off.

"I do not understand how they train them either Harry, likely with some 'magical modification' they made to the genus." Merlin shook his head. "However, you did not come here today to talk about this letter; have you decided what disciplines you would like to learn?

Harry put the letter away in his pocket as he answered. "Telekinesis and empathy, then telepathy and healing."

Merlin chuckled. "Ambitious, aren't we, Harry? Taking on all four disciplines will not be an easy feat, and in choosing this route you will not gain true _mastery_ in any of them for decades, if not centuries." He didn't voice that Harry would have likely had to learn all of them anyway.

Harry tinted red slightly in embarrassment, but did not respond to Merlin.

"I am assuming that you listed them in the order of importance to you. Tell me your reasons why."

Harry nodded. "Telekinesis to defend myself should all else fail, then empathy to know the feelings of others around me to know if they are threats to me. Telepathy and healing are last because I do not see the need to defend myself from mental attacks on the level of the Wraith in the short-term, and healing is last because we have technology available right now that would do far better than I could for a long time to come.

Merlin gave an approving nod. "Your reasoning is sound, however there are mental threats even in the world of the Wizards." At Harry's look of confusion Merlin continued. "They have their own mental arts, similar, but weaker in strength to our own, but that does not mean that we are impervious to their techniques. A skilled practitioner of their mind arts would still be able to harm you if you do not have the necessary skills. As such, you will be learning telepathy before empathy, not after."

Harry nodded in slight resignation, he should have known that Merlin wouldn't let him take the easier discipline first.

"Now, let us begin with telekinesis." Merlin gestured at the cave wall. To Harry's surprise, the polished limestone broke apart as if hit with an invisible hammer. A second later, and the fragments of rock began to lift from the ground before forming together as if they were a massively complex jigsaw puzzle, forming one mass which then attached itself to the wall as if it had never been damaged.

"Telekinesis can be used as both a brute strength attack and a delicate method of construction, depending on the level of one's training and mastery of the art. Some of the most advanced practitioners of the art, who lived far before my time, were literally able to take the elements and materials all around them and form them into functioning pieces of technology."

Harry was sure his eyes were bugging out of his skull at such a statement. He couldn't imagine the level of mastery required to do something like that. They must have been true artists.

Merlin chuckled. "However, you are going to start much smaller, with the most basic exercise of them all." He gestured, and this time a smaller force was applied to the ground below them, breaking several pieces of stone into gravel.

One of the pebbles lifted from the ground and flew directly at Harry, who dodged to the side. He glared at Merlin, who chuckled again. "The purpose of this exercise is to deflect the path of the pebbles enough that they do not strike you, without moving your physical body." With a gesture, the floor around Harry's feet seemed to liquefy, trapping him in the stone.

"We will start off slowly, but once you are accustomed to this exercise I will add more stones and then send them at faster speeds." Merlin smirked again at his apprentice's stricken expression.

"Begin."

* * *

Harry appeared in his room back at Privet Drive sore and exhausted. He knew for certain now that Merlin enjoyed watching him suffer.

In a way, though, it was worth it. By the end of the hours of teaching (read, _torture_ ) Harry had begun to understand what Merlin's earlier theory lessons were talking about. In a way, he could now sense the passage of the pebbles through the air, and if he focused enough, he could target those coming toward him and _push_ them away slightly. His pushes barely had any effect on the pebbles so far, but Merlin said that that would come in time.

A pecking sound came at his window and he blinked, wondering if he was so exhausted that he was hallucinating. A Great Horned Owl was pecking at the window, looking quite displeased with him, if that was possible.

Reluctantly, he opened the window and the owl perched on the footboard of his bed, hooting lowly. Harry shook his head and took a piece of paper from his finely crafted desk (said desk being placed in his room by Merlin and his beam transporter as last year's birthday gift) and wrote out a basic note saying that he had received the acceptance letter and that he would like a more detailed explanation of how he was to get to the school and where he could find his supplies.

* * *

Bathsheda Babbling was considered as _not quite right in the head_ by many of her students.

To her fellow teachers, she was considered to be _eccentric._

To young Harry Potter, she was downright _fascinating_.

When he had asked for a more detailed explanation, he had not been expecting to have one of the professors of the school come directly to him. In a way, though, he was quite glad for it.

She could best be described as a mad-scientist. Her hair looked as if it was permanently frizzy, and her eyes tended to focus off into the distance even when she was talking to him. True to her last name, she was quite the talker, though her listening skills could use more work.

She waxed poetical about her class, which was the study of ancient runes. And when she wasn't talking about said subject, she would randomly spot something shiny in the Dursley home and begin talking about it as well.

After what felt like a half-hour of her non-stop talking, she suddenly stopped talking and pulled out a pocket-watch with at least ten hands.

"It is very nice to meet you Mr. Potter, but I am sure that you did not call me to simply talk….We must go purchase your school supplies at once!" She exclaimed.

Harry gave her a blank look as she pulled what looked like a neon red and green sock from somewhere within her dress. "Well, do hurry up and put a finger on it dear, we haven't the whole day."

 _I wasn't the one that wouldn't stop talking._ Harry grumbled to himself as he did as he was told. He was expecting the transportation to be similar to the beam transporter. How _wrong_ he was.

* * *

From the moment that his finger touched the sock, he suddenly felt as if he were caught by a hook to his navel and falling rapidly. He floundered, looking for something to grasp onto, only for the rapid spinning to suddenly stop and his feet to slam into the dusty ground.

A man wearing what looked like a dress greeted them when they stood up in a very dull tone of voice, as if he said the same thing too often to care any more.

Harry looked around, twitching as Babbling grabbed his wrist and pulled him out into a hall made of polished black marble accented by white crystal. Glowing pale blue crystals in flowing silver fixtures served as lights, giving the room around them a slightly ethereal quality.

"Where are we?" He asked. Their footsteps echoed as they walked down the short hall. Harry noted that other people were trickling out of doors identical to the one that they had used, all heading toward the end of the hall.

"This is the bank, Gringotts, run by the Goblins." She replied, paused, then added. "Don't offend them."

Harry blinked in confusion, but was not given any time to ask his question before they were through the door and in a room with two long rows of wooden desks, each manned by a diminutive creature that harry was willing to bet money were the goblins she just mentioned. The floor, similar to the hall before it, was made of colored variations of marble, though the glowing crystals had been replaced with soft orbs of yellow-white light that evenly illuminated everything in the room.

Babbling walked up to one of the free tellers, gently clearing her throat.

The goblin looked down at her from on top of the tall desk and set down his quill. "What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Potter needs to retrieve some money for his school supplies." She gestured negligently at the boy behind her.

The goblin frowned, looking over Harry with an intense stare as if searching for something. "Key please?"

Babbling turned to Harry, as if expecting him to have his own key. He gave her an incredulous look in response. "I don't have it, why are you looking at me like I should?"

The goblin sighed and stepped down from his stool. This was just going to be one of those days for him. "Very well, if you would come with me we will need to verify young Mr. Potter's identity before issuing him a new vault key." He continued walking without looking back to see if they were actually following, and Harry scrambled forward slightly as Professor Babbling followed closely behind him.

They passed through a large set of double doors, which opened into a hall that closely mirrored the one they first came through, only the crystal fixtures in this hall were giving off a red-orange light instead of blue.

After passing a series of seemingly identical doors. the goblin knocked before he opened one of them with a large red, gold and black crest adorning the center panel. Harry got a brief glance of what looked somewhat like a rampant lion before he was ushered inside the room.

Said room was quite small for an office; if the ceiling were any lower then they were likely to hit their heads. Various weapons rested upon the walls, and though they looked ornamental, Harry could tell just how sharp they were even from where he was standing.

Another goblin was sitting at the desk, though he was obviously much older than the one that had escorted them to the room. He was currently working furiously on a massive stack of parchment.

A nameplate bearing the name 'Senior Manager Sharptooth' sat on top of the goblin's desk

"Please sit, I will be with you in a moment." The goblin commanded without even looking up from his papers. He then added. "Thank you, Griphook, you may return to your post." The first goblin bowed before quickly leaving the room and quietly closing the door behind him.

After a minute, Sharptooth put down his quill and asked. "And how may I help you today?"

Harry cleared his throat nervously. The goblin in front of him seemed to exude a presence similar to that of his teacher, one that commanded instant respect.

"Senior Manager Sharptooth, I need to have a new key made to access my vaults." Harry kept a blank expression on his face, not knowing enough about goblins or their cultural quirks to guess what kind of reactions would be offensive to them.

The goblin grunted in response. "Very well." He stood up before crouching and opening one of his desk drawers, retrieving a shimmering piece of parchment with a faint gold tinge to it, along with a strange black quill that looked unnaturally sharp.

"That is a _blood quill_." For the first time since he had met her, Harry heard the professor sounding almost angry. Her anger did not phase the goblin in front of her, however, who merely raised a thin eyebrow in response. "And inheritance tests such as this requires a blood quill."

"What's so bad about blood quills?" Harry asked, internally dreading the answer.

Sharptooth harumphed to himself before explaining. "As can be inferred by their name, blood quills use the blood of the user in place of standard ink, and are mostly used for signing magical contracts. However, some wizards realized that they could be used in more sinister ways, which caused the Wizard Ministry of Magic to label them as 'dark' and forbid their use in nearly every situation."

"Then why…?" Harry trailed off, just realizing something. "Gringotts is sovereign territory, isn't it?"

Sharptooth's slight sneer almost disappeared for a moment before he remembered himself. By his choice in clothing this child had most likely not been aware of the wizarding world before he came here, which set off a few alarms considering that the boy was the heir of an Ancient House. Putting that aside, this child must have an excellent teacher if he could infer such a thing with so little information.

"You are correct, Mr. Potter, the Goblin Nation, per its last treaty with the wizards, was granted sovereignty over their banks and cities, meaning that we do not need to follow the same laws as the wizards. There is a reason that few wizards dare to steal from us after all." He finished with a sinister grin.

"However, we are off topic. The blood quill is required to verify that you are, in fact, Harry James Potter, son of Lily Elizabeth Potter née Evans and James Reginald Potter. Though it is mostly a formality at this point, as we know that you are not an imposter."

"How do you know?" Harry questioned.

The goblin smirked before he replied. "We simply do." A pause, and he turned his attention to Professor Babbling. "I would ask you to leave Miss, as this inheritance test is meant only for the eyes of family."

His tone of finality brooked no argument, and though she frowned slightly, Babbling left the room without complaint.

Harry picked up the blood quill and then looked at the golden parchment, lifting a questioning brow.

"Sign your name in the bottom panel, Harry James Potter." The goblin said in a mixture of boredom and hidden interest.

Harry did so, and was slightly surprised by a pricking sensation in his left hand as he wrote out his name as neatly as possible. Once he was finished, he set the quill back down next to the parchment and waited expectantly.

He was not disappointed by what happened next. His name seemed to flash gold, then gold lines spidered upward from where he had signed in the shape of a family tree spiraling upwards. His mother's family did not appear. given that she was the first of her family to display magic. From his parents, it moved to his grandparents, Charlus Potter and Dorea Black, and then further back in time. The pace accelerated as it traveled further and further into his family's history. And at the end of the process, another branch appeared from Harry's name that had no sense being there.

Harry stared in disbelief at the branch. ' _Adopted by_ _Moros of Atlantis_ \- Vault 7.' How had the paper known that Merlin had taken on the role of his parent?

He wasn't the only one surprised, though. SharpTooth's beady eyes narrowed as he beheld the impossibility in front of him. Merlin's vault had been sealed for nearly a thousand years; it had been said that it would only be given to his chosen heir. And Atlantis was a myth, even to the wizarding world.

He gave Harry an evaluating look as he looked over the parchment critically, as if searching for any faults in whatever told it that he inherited Merlin's vault.

He didn't say anything though, giving a slight shake of the head before touching a box on his desk that Harry could have sworn was not there before. A low humming sound not unlike the sound of Merlin's beam transporter came from it before two low 'thunks' sounded from it. Sharptooth opened the box and took out two keys, one a dull gold with a smaller version of the crest on Sharptooth's office, which Harry was beginning to suspect was the Potter Crest. The other was made of a strange silver-purple, and he noted that the goblin seemed startled by it.

"What is that key made of? He asked quietly.

The goblin gave him a sidelong glance. "That is one of the rarest metals in the world Mr. Potter, Mithril."

Harry stared at the key in fascination. He had thought that Mithril was something that only existed in fantasy books, like The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, but now he was wondering if the writer of those series knew something about the magical world.

"Not to sound ignorant, but why is that so important?" Harry asked.

The goblin very nearly gaped at him for the question before composing himself visibly. "It is important, Mr. Potter, because when properly forged, any weapon made with that metal will never dull and will be very difficult to break against anything other than another mithril weapon. The metal is also known for its incredible retention of enchantments; once those enchantments are placed on a well made mithril weapon, it is likely that they will stay on that weapon for as long as it exists."

Ok, that was actually pretty impressive.

Harry tenderly grasped the keys, and jolted when he felt a pair of sharp pinches in his hand. A single drop of blood welled out from the pinpricks and seemed to seep into the keys before they gave off a soft glow and then returned to normal.

Sharptooth seemed to nod to himself. "Very well, Mr. Potter, if that is all that needs to be attended to, I will call Griphook so that he can take you to your vaults."

"If it's not too much trouble, Senior Manager Sharptooth, what happens if I lose my key?" Harry asked.

"No-one but you would be able to use those keys, that is why they took your blood. And there is no need to worry about losing them, you simply need to think of having the desired key in your hand and it will appear."

Harry nodded in understanding just as a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in!" Sharptooth barked, and the goblin from earlier, Griphook, appeared and gave a short bow to Sharptooth.

"Please take Mr. Potter and his minder to the Potter trust vault, Griphook."

Griphook nodded and gestured toward the door with an odd half bow. Harry felt a little uncomfortable with the sense of forced subservience he got from it, and saw an impatient Professor Babbling looking around the hall.

"Everything taken care of?" She asked pleasantly, as if she had not just spent the last ten minutes or so waiting.

Harry nodded absently, wondering why Merlin had not seen fit to mention that he had a vault in the magical world. He desperately wanted to see what was inside of it, but knew that with his guide being present and watchful, he could not do so today.

* * *

One wild cart ride and a vault full o' gold later and Harry was leaving the bank from the main entrance this time.

Harry was quite taken aback by the appearance of the street before him. Professor Babbling seemed to smirk at his expression

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Mr. Potter," she said.

It was as if he had been dropped into a medieval fair set up on a street. There was no concrete, no pavement. They still used cobblestone roads?

The stores themselves seemed to be rather disorganized as well, several of them having additions to them that did not seem to make physical sense.

"Where are we going first?" He asked, and she seemed to stare at him for a bit before replying. "Why, to Ollivanders, of course!" She did not say anything further on that subject, instead choosing to quickly walk in the direction of the shabby looking corner store denoted as 'Ollivander's: Fine Makers of Wands since 382 B.C.'

Harry's mind paused for a moment, wondering how a business could survive for such a long time, before he followed his guide into the store. There was a layer of pervasive dust on everything, as if the shelves and tables had not been cleaned in decades, and a faint woody smell, like that of a carpenter's office, tinged the air.

"Ah, Bathsheda Babbling, Aspen, 12 inches, with a dragon heartstring from a particularly rambunctious Welsh Green. Is it still working well for you?"

The man had appeared out of nowhere, startling Babbling into nearly falling from her chair while Harry instinctively took a fighting stance, whirling to face the man from where he had been looking at the portraits on the walls.

The man looked as if a soft breath of wind would blow him away. His white hair would have had Aunt Petunia running the other way in disgust at how unkempt it was, and his pale eyes seemed to stare right into Harry's soul. He shifted uncomfortably and the man seemed to realize what he was doing as he immediately turned to the many shelves of boxes behind the counter.

"Mr. Potter, I have the feeling that you are currently under an apprenticeship?" He asked out of the blue, still rummaging around in the boxes. Harry was taken aback, wondering how the man could have possibly known that, before he gave a soft 'yes' in answer.

"Hmmm.. what is your wand hand?" He asked, and a writhing tape-measure appeared from the counter before it started measuring Harry.

Nonplussed at the question, and at the tape which was currently measuring the distance between his eyes, Harry replied that he was right handed.

"And you are a person that prefers action to reaction?"

Ok, this shopkeeper was really starting to freak him out with these disturbingly accurate statements.

"I guess so..." He looked away from the man, noting that a portrait that not even a minute ago had featured a middle-aged man, was now empty.

The man took a box from the shelf and opened it, "Aspen, 11 inches with Phoenix tail feather core." He handed it to Harry handle first, then backed away quickly. He must have known something was going to happen, because as soon as Harry touched the wand there was a sound like a gunshot and the empty portrait in front of Harry cracked cleanly in half.

Hurriedly, he dropped the wand back onto the counter, and Ollivander eyed the cracked portrait with an expression resembling excitement.

"Very violent reaction to that wood...maybe a water-natured..." He murmured to himself, before opening another box and said "Hornbeam, 12 and a quarter inches with unicorn ha-never mind." He said, plucking the wand from his hand after it shattered a dull looking vase.

From then on it seemed to be a neverending series of wands that destroyed the store in some way, though Harry did notice that as they went on the bad reactions seemed to decrease in strength.

Ollivander's eyes seemed to gleam in the light as he gave Harry his next wand. "Alright, try this one Mr. Potter, Black Poisonwood, 11 and a half inches with the heartstring of a Hungarian Horntail."

Harry hesitantly touched the handle as it was laid on the counter and was surprised to feel a sense of warmth and belonging. Now curious, he fully grasped the wand and was rewarded with a stream of gold and silver light following the path of his movements.

"Ah, wonderful Mr. Potter. Black poisonwood is known for its strength and versatility in magic, but requires a wielder with the will to control it. Very Rare." Ollivander said with a half smile, looking at something that only he could see.

Harry nodded, half in a daze at the new feeling running through his body. Though he did not know it yet, his training with Merlin had made him incredibly sensitive to feeling his own internal energies. It was not unlike the feeling of touching an electric current, but at the same time warm and comforting.

"That will be five galleons, Mr. Potter."

Harry snapped out of it before looking at the wand again. "Is it safe for me to carry my wand in my pocket?" He didn't want to accidentally damage it by placing it with the rest of his materials.

Ollivander's face morphed into an incredulous visage. "You most certainly do not put your wand in your pocket, Mr. Potter, you put it in a wand holster."

Harry blinked at the man's sudden vehemence before asking."Then why don't you offer them with the wand then?"

Ollivander sniffed. "I am a wand-crafter, Mr. Potter, not an enchanter or a leatherworker. You would have better luck at Madam Malkins' Robe shop."

Harry paid the man quickly after he started muttering to himself, internally wondering about the sanity (or lack thereof) he had found so far in the magical world.

The next stop was, unfortunately, Madam Malkins, where Harry was forced to sit still as assistants carefully and slowly measured him for his robes. He was not very happy with the fashion choices that they had, all of them looking too much like dresses for his comfort.

There was a young teenager being fitted with him, maybe fourteen or so, who seemed to be stoically enduring the attentions of the young shop attendants who were almost finished with him. He was leanly muscled as though he was an athlete, and his robes were black with canary yellow trim.

From Babbling's motor mouth he had learned several things about Hogwarts, namely that there were four houses in the school. These were Ravenclaw, Babbling's former house, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor.

Harry noted what looked like a badger on the boy's school crest and realized that he must be in Hufflepuff.

Unfortunately, the boy seemed to have noticed him staring, and nodded to him. "Going to Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded back, a little uncomfortable at the attention. "I am."

The other boy seemed to sense his discomfort and smiled winningly. "My name is Cedric Diggory, and I hope to see you in Hufflepuff."

"Harry." He replied, and if Cedric was perturbed by him omitting his last name, he did not show it as he smiled again. "Nice to meet you, and good luck in your sorting." A few moments later he paid for his purchases and walked back out of the shop.

Harry was now alone in suffering through the attentions of the shop attendants, and a half-hour later he nearly beamed himself out of the shop in exasperation.

Babbling looked terribly amused by the whole affair, and he scowled at her as they went on to gather his potions supplies along with a helpful little book that detailed the basic do's and don'ts of potion making.

The trunk shop was interesting, if quite unorganized. More than once Harry had to step over a trunk laid carelessly on the floor. From what he could see and sense, the enchantments laid into every trunk could vary wildly in strength and versatility. Unfortunately, because of the disorganization, Harry had no idea what he wanted or even what was offered, and so he asked Professor Babbling what she would recommend.

"A few compartments, library, potions, and such...some anti-theft charms would be a good idea."

Due to the disorganization, Harry eventually found a store associate and told her what he wanted. She just waved her wand and one of more ornate-looking trunks came flying over to him.

"This trunk has four compartments, up to date anti-theft charms that won't need to be redone for a decade, and as a bonus, it has built in feather-light charms."

Harry knew from Merlin that when people wanted you to buy something, they almost always went with the most extravagant and expensive item that they could first. "How much?"

The woman hesitated only slightly, but it was enough for him to notice. "Ten galleons." Harry noted that the professor looked somewhat incredulous at the price, but to him, that really wasn't that much. His vault was full of gold that he would not really need for more than the few years he would be attending hogwarts.

"Done."

A little stunned at his easy acceptance, the salesperson brought them over to the counter and ran a flat polished stone that fit in her hand over the lock of the trunk. Harry was then handed the same stone, and he felt a surge of energy as the trunk recognized him as the new owner. He thanked the associate and walked out of the store with a bemused Babbling following after him

They did not stop for a pet. To be honest Harry had never had one, and he did not need one. His experiences with Ripper, Aunt Marge's dog, had made him very reluctant to get a pet of his own.

Flourish and Blotts was the only part of the shopping trip that he enjoyed. He studiously ignored the gaping stare Babbling gave him as he made his way around the shop physically carrying a stack of books that towered over his head with only a little strain, using his rudimentary telekinesis to lighten the load somewhat.

Of course, the fact that he had yet to bump into anything or anyone might have contributed to her disbelief.

"That boy is a shoo-in for Ravenclaw." She muttered to herself, not at all unhappy with the thought. Her house was often grouped with the Hufflepuffs as unimportant compared to the Gryffindors and Slytherins, more than once she had to put up with ignorant yearmates who thought that they could convince her to help them with their homework, _because that was all the house of Ravens was good for_ in their eyes.

Harry finally stopped adding to the pile of books once he had found all the standard books for each year, along with an assortment of other books mentioned to complement those well. Books on history, culture, and magical combat (and dueling) were added so that he and Merlin could further refine his training schedule. Merlin had insisted.

The young man operating the cash register looked bug-eyed at the sheer amount of books, but ran a stone similar to that of the trunk shop over each one, while giving him a complimentary bottomless bag for spending more than twenty galleons.

Babbling insisted on carrying a few of the books herself, though Harry soon found out it was mainly to read one of the books he had purchased on esoteric runes and their uses. He shook his head in amusement.

"Is there anything else that I might need before I go to Hogwarts?"

Babbling wordlessly gave him an envelope containing train tickets and instructions on how to access the Hogwarts Express, too enveloped in her study of the new book to do much else. If he hadn't spent the whole day with the woman Harry would be exasperated, but as it was, he just shook his head in amused resignation." Professor, if you take me back to my relatives' house, that book is yours to read when I am at hogwarts."

Before he knew what was happening, the book was placed in the bottomless bag and he was pulled through a narrow tube completely different from what he had been subjected to that morning, appearing within his room at the Dursley's house.

Harry blinked at the sudden change.

"I'll hold you to that Mr. Potter." Babbling said before she disappeared with another crack.

Harry stood there for a moment, then chuckled to himself. "Guess she really likes her books."

* * *

September 1

King's Cross

9:37 AM

Harry could have badgered Uncle Vernon into driving him to King's Cross, but it honestly wasn't worth the headache it would inevitably give him. Besides, beaming was much faster, and he and Merlin (disguised of course) appeared in a less crowded section of King's Cross with barely a sound, any cameras in the station were simply unable to see them.

Merlin was dressed in old fashioned clothing (meaning from around the 1940's), a brown jacket and tie with a classy fedora to finish it off. He did attract some attention for his style of dress, but he looked the part of someone that old, so it wasn't much. Harry, not wanting to be left out, added a flat cap on top of his head, which had the added bonus of hiding his scar from view.

The history books he had purchased had mentioned his defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort far too often for his taste. From further studies of old newspapers in Diagon, he learned that he was a celebrity in this insular community. He was just glad that no-one had recognized him on his first trip to Diagon. The shopping trip had been bad enough without rabid fans stalking him around.

Though he was a bit annoyed at her for not telling him about his fame, Harry was definitely glad for the instructions that Babbling had left him. Otherwise he would have had no clue how to reach Platform 9 ¾.

He and Merlin passed through the illusioned entrance without trouble and were immediately met with the chaotic platform filled with people in both Wizarding and non-Wizarding methods of dress. While Harry was staring at the gleaming red Hogwarts Express in wonder, Merlin was taking note of the separation between those wearing 'muggle' clothing and wizard clothing. There was a hidden undercurrent of hostility coming from several of the wizards in robes when they saw the first generation magicals on the platform, and Merlin frowned before putting it aside, steering Harry toward a less crowded area of the platform.

Once they were out of the way, Merlin faced Harry and took a thin metal cuff that looked as though it could snap in half with the barest touch.

"Harry, I know that I am not the most loving person, but I want you to know that you are very important to me, and...I made this to protect you." He took the bangle and fastened it around his left wrist much like a watch. As Harry watched, the device clicked slightly and encircled the area under his wrist completely, thin enough that it did not impede his movements at all.

"This device will allow me to continue our lessons on hand-to-hand combat and the sciences while you are away. I'm sure I already mentioned it before, but our technology is not infallible. I will not be able to beam myself or yourself through the wards of Hogwarts, the level of ambient energy is too strong for even our sensors to penetrate."

Harry stared at the device in wonder, and on impulse, hugged Merlin around his waist. The man tensed slightly before relaxing again and laid his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Learn as much as you can, and do well Harry; I expect the best of you."

Harry grumbled good naturedly before ending the hug and grabbing his things. "I'll keep in contact as best as I can...Patram" (1)

Merlin could not keep a soft smile from appearing on his face at the endearment, but quickly hid it as Harry looked up. The glimmer in his son's eyes told him that he had not hidden it completely, and Harry reluctantly let go to grab his trunk.

Once on the train Harry quickly made his way down looking for an empty compartment. He wanted to continue working on his telepathic exercises, and for that he needed peace and quiet.

He stowed his trunk up on its shelf with little trouble, thanks to the built in feather-light charms.

Once that was done, he locked the compartment door and pushed himself against his seat, trying to find a relaxing position.

Telepathy was an incredibly powerful and versatile tool if used correctly. With it a skilled practitioner could determine the exact location and number of minds around them, even if they were shielded. Like the Wizards' arts of occlumency and legiilmency it could also be used to attack and defend. The most skilled practitioners could even make their targets see full sensory illusions, this was one of the Wraith's more devastating abilities during the war.

Harry started by just trying to feel the minds around him and determining their distance from him. Each mind had a different... _song_...for lack of a better term. Each and every one was unique.

Harry did not notice when the train left the station, too absorbed in his observation of other minds. He did, however, notice when another mind waited outside his door for several moments before unlocking it. Annoyed at the intrusion, he opened his eyes.

It was that boy from the shop, Diggary, or something like that. The fourteen year old looked a bit sheepish when he realized that the compartment was, in fact, occupied.

"Oh, sorry, I thought someone was just trying to be annoying when it was locked. Were you asleep?" He asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Oh, then why didn't you hear me knocking?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess I was lost in thought." He replied sardonically.

Cedric looked indecisive. "Do you mind if I stay in here then? I was looking for an empty compartment for some peace and quiet, but you don't seem to be the overly chatty type."

Harry's eyebrow rose in a fair approximation of Merlin when Harry said something particularly stupid.

"You can stay." He said after a moment. Harry had never really had friends before thanks to Dudley, and he decided that maybe he should try to find some now that the whale couldn't ruin things for him.

"Thanks." The other boy seemed to sigh in relief before taking something out of his pocket. It looked like a miniature trunk. Cedric's wand appeared from a medium grade holster on his arm before he placed the trunk on the ground and tapped it.

Harry may have bought quite a few books when he was in Diagon, but that did not mean that he had read all of them. Now he was starting to wish he had read more of the books with practical information on magic, rather than the history of it, but he he had wanted to get it out of the way.

Cedric laughed slightly at Harry's expression at the suddenly larger trunk. "Muggleborn, right? Shrinking charms are pretty wicked, especially seeing it for the first time."

Harry was mentally trying to understand how something like that was even possible. It was like the trunk had been both decreased in weight and in mass without losing anything from inside of it. He could understand the weight change, but how could you reduce something's mass like that? Some kind of pocket dimension that physically changed the dimensions of an object? Did Alteran science have the ability to recreate that?

"I'll have to learn that at some point," he finally said, making Cedric laugh again.

The remainder of the train ride passed relatively quickly once Cedric came into his compartment. Cedric attempted to start conversations several times, only to falter when Harry gave him somewhat short answers in response. Harry was trying, but it seemed that his upbringing and lack of interaction with other children made him unable to hold a good conversation with someone he didn't know.

Thankfully, Cedric seemed to think that he was simply shy, and did most of the talking.

"I mentioned before that I was in Huffflepuff, still no real idea of where you want to go Harry?."

Harry shrugged minutely. "Your house is for the hardworking and tolerant right?"

Cedric nodded

"Then either yours or Ravenclaw."

Cedric's head tilted to the side slightly as he gave Harry a more evaluating look. "I could see that happening."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door before it opened, revealing a kindly looking woman with a small cart full of sweets. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" She asked them.

Cedric immediately got up and grabbed several of the blue cartons along with a bag that sounded as if it was full of marbles. Harry decided to grab another one of the bags, and paid the witch before heading back to his seat.

"Bertie Botts every flavor beans?" He wondered aloud before opening it and examining the many different colors of jelly beans. He chose a pale green looking one thoughtfully, not seeing Cedric, his mouth full with a chocolate frog, waving frantically.

He took a bite, not sure what he was expecting. His face screwed up in disgust at the acidic taste of vomit before he choked and spat the evil thing out of his mouth.

"What the blasted bloody hell was that? He spluttered, more violent profanity barely keeping itself behind his mouth.

Cedric gave a rueful chuckle, only a little surprised at the profanity from one so young. "Sorry, I should've told you sooner, but when they say every flavor, they really mean it."

Harry made a scowl and promptly shoved the bag of sweets away. He lost his appetite.

Not five minutes later another knock came to the door, only this time it was another first year girl with bushy hair and a nervous looking boy with blond hair. Apparently they were looking for the boy's toad and none of the other students had been very helpful in their search.

Cedric shook his head, wondering why none of the other prefects wanted to help the poor boy find his toad, but obligingly cast a summoning charm after asking the name of the toad.

"Accio Trevor the toad."

A few seconds later the toad came zooming into the compartment. Harry's eyes narrowed. What would have happened if the toad had been inside of a locked door?

Fortunately it seemed that he was not the only one who wanted to know that.

"What year level is that spell? I've read through the first year books already but there was nothing about a spell that did that. How did it know which Trevor the toad was the right one?"

Cedric looked a little bemused at the sudden barrage of words from the first year witch, but answered obligingly.

"It is a fourth to fifth-year spell that I learned over the summer, and to be honest, I don't know how the correct item is summoned, only that it has to do with the relation of the person summoning the object to the object. In this case, Trevor's owner asked me for help, and magic knew what he was looking for.

Harry's eyebrow rose. The way Cedric was talking, it sounded almost like magic was _sentient_.

"But that doesn't make sense, I thought magic was just energy, how can it know what Neville is looking for when you cast the spell?" The girl demanded.

Cedric shrugged. "You'll have to ask professor Flitwick about that."

Harry could barely suppress his amusement when the girl huffed. He would get along with her just fine.

End Chapter 2

* * *

1 A slight change to the Latin word for father, meant to be Lantean

Black Poisonwood

Very strong ties to the Earth element. Associated with strength and versatility, and requires an owner with a strong will. Strong for Protective magic, and various forms of Arcane magic. Another difficult wandwood to master. Due to the poisonous and somewhat volatile nature of the wood, it tends to be rarer - holding a poisonwood wand not bonded to you can cause some skin irritation.

Posted 8/31/2015

Edited 12/17/2015:

Changed Dudley's Birthday to what it is supposed to be, June 23

Thanks to HowInMadHowie for pointing that out to me, I can't believe I missed that.

Also just wanted to mention the next chapter is mostly finished, just in the editing process now. I will respond to the rest of the reviews in that chapter.

Until then, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for all the reviews guys, it makes me really happy to see that you are enjoying this story.

Answers to specific reviewers:

Zephal: I know its really focused on Hogwarts right now, but I wanted Harry to have meaningful connections with people, to learn how to actually interact with his peers. The last story didn't really have that; Harry matured too quickly to be believable, and was often strained in connecting with others he did not know.

Technology will definitely be a big part of his Hogwarts years, and I hope that will make it seem less like "it doesn't really feel different to any other Heir!Harry story where he learns UBER SECRET MAGIC that no one else knows."

Elim Garak: First of all, thanks for the points you made on the effects that magic would have on specially shielded technology, and that there was no dead zone around Diagon Alley. You're definitely right about that. When I was talking about technology I meant solely electronic circuit based technology, CD players, radios, digital watches, but you are correct about purely mechanical devices being safe from the interference.

As for the education in Hogwarts...this ties in to what I was saying to Zephal, but also the last story had him learning about magic from real living wizards, namely his family that came with him. In this version, he could still have that through Sirius, but at the same time he is unlikely to learn about the man until his third year anyway. Learning from books would not be enough, and though he could learn from private wizard tutors (and still might in the future, haven't decided on that yet) he would not learn how to properly interact with other people, which like I said to Zephal, wasn't a good thing for him.

I hope this clears up why I wanted to have him in Hogwarts, and I'm sorry that it detracts from the originality of the first story, but thats just how it is I guess.

Moi: Thanks Moi, Hermione is one of those characters that has a lot of potential in fan fiction, but in many cases is seen as the one dimensional bookworm obsessed with authority. She is definitely going to be a part of Harry's life, but I'm uncertain as of yet how much she will really know about Merlin. Still, she will meet Merlin along with Neville and I plan to have them learning some things alongside Harry, namely logical thinking and critical skills based off of the Lantean methods of learning.

M.L. : In the last story I tended to focus more on what could be done with magic and technology than if it should be done or how it should be done, which was one of the reasons that I grew tired of the other story and thought that it didn't make sense. Character development, like you mentioned, was another issue I really had, and I'm glad that you think it is improving in this story.

Finally, thanks to guests 1 and 2 for the points you made. As for Merlin being a practitioner of hand to hand, I thought that a people with as long a history as the Lanteans would have at least some styles of fighting unarmed, and that being human or at least very close to human in physiology, would have similar movements as the base of their martial arts styles to the ones on Earth.

As always, a big thank you to my Beta Joe Lawyer for his work on the chapter.

Chapter 3:

Same day

Arriving at Hogsmeade Station

Harry could not see much of the station as they arrived. Night had covered the sleepy station like a dark blanket, only alleviated by distant glowing lights.

Harry followed the rest of the students off the train and lightly pulled Neville with him to a less crowded area of the platform. Despite having calmed down slightly while in the cabin, the boy was beginning to look nervous again.

Neville had mentioned that his grandmother was expecting him to be sorted into Gryffindor, just like his parents had been, and from what Harry had gathered through their conversation Neville had the burden of quite a few unfair expectations set on his narrow shoulders.

Harry knew Merlin was strict, but the man was also respectful of the achievements that he had made. Neville's grandmother, however, seemed to dismiss every good quality of the boy and only focused on his perceived faults, whether real or not.

It was no wonder that his self-confidence was in this tattered state if any progress he made was looked upon with scorn.

"First years gather round. First years!" An absolute giant of a man appeared out of the gloom holding a dim lantern. Despite his intimidating size, the man gave off an aura of kindness, and Harry relaxed, if only a little.

The man waited for a minute as the elder students left the platform and headed in a different direction.

After quickly surveying the crowd of first years, the man's veritable forest of a beard opened in an honest smile.

"Well then, my name is Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the keys at Hogwarts. Follow along please." The man turned and walked at what he likely believed was a very slow pace, but for the first years, whose legs were considerably shorter, a bit brisk.

They were led to a pier with what looked like dozens of small wooden rowboats rocking gently in the water. Harry gingerly sat down in a boat with Hermione and Neville, along with a dark-skinned boy whose name he did not know.

Once they were settled, Hagrid looked over the small fleet before nodding to himself and bellowing a command, "Forward!"

Harry felt the boat gently accelerate, gliding through the water as if there was no resistance from it at all. More magic at work?

As they grew closer to the castle Harry could feel a warm presence brush softly against his mind, feeling both welcoming and strong. He flinched slightly when he first felt it, drawing questioning stares from his three boatmates, before he rubbed his arms as if he was cold. There was a strange feeling in the air in response, almost like what he felt from Merlin when the man was highly amused.

If Harry didn't know any better, he would have thought that the castle was _laughing_ at him.

As the boats drew closer to the castle, Harry stared in wonder at the beautiful lights that flickered against the stone walls. It was an awe inspiring sight, but still paled in comparison to the images that Merlin had shown him of Atlantis from his memories, when that great city was vibrant with life. Then again, the castle seemed to give off a worn, well-loved feeling compared to the sharp and unyielding angles of Atlantis.

Once they docked they were lead up a worn stone path. The stones having seemingly been polished by centuries of first year students trampling up them in the same uneven mob as right now.

They were met at the doors of the castle by a severe looking woman with an equally severe bun of hair.

"Hello Professor, I've got the firsties here for you." Hagrid spoke gruffly, his words slightly muddled under his countryside accent.

She gave Hagrid a tight grin and a nod before gesturing toward the students behind him. "If you will all please follow me?"

She turned toward the enormous set of solid looking doors, more than appropriate for a castle, a _fortress_ , which opened seemingly of their own accord.

They were led into a bright hallway lit by flickering torch light, smooth granite stonework giving way toward polished slate and marble. Portraits of hundreds of people were placed on the walls, and Harry had to make sure that his eyes were working correctly when they seemed to be moving and even talking. They were.

Deciding to ignore that seeming _impossibility_ for the moment, he turned his attention back to the professor as she came to a stop before another pair of large doors at the base of the landing staircase.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." She stated kindly, looking over the assembled first years with a slightly warmer gaze. "Behind me is the great hall, where all of our students and professors eat their meals together. Students eat their meals with their house, while the professors have their own table at the end of the hall."

"Your house is where you will spend your years at hogwarts. Your house is akin to your family while you are here; you will have your classes with them, sleep in the same dorms as them, and you will spend your free time in your house common room. There are four houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. No one house is the same as the other, as each emphasizes the traits that their founders most valued. Gryffindor for the brave and noble, Hufflepuff for the hardworking and humble, Ravenclaw for the studious and intelligent, and Slytherin for the ambitious and cunning."

Harry frowned slightly. He had known about the houses before, from studying the various books and materials required for classes, but the way this Professor was explaining it, they almost sounded like they were being sorted into opposing factions and once sorted there was very little mixing.

"Your house is decided for you by the sorting ceremony, before the start of term banquet tonight. Once you are sorted, you will go sit down at your house table, and wait patiently for all the sorting to be completed." The way she finished her last distinctly reminded Harry of Ms. Wagner. If they did not sit down quietly, he had a feeling that she would give the offenders quite the admonishment for their behavior.

Now then, I will will return shortly to bring you to the sorting ceremony. Please wait here until then, and do attempt to smarten yourselves up a bit." Harry noted how her eyes lingered on the redhead with a noticeable smudge of something on his nose and stifled a snicker at the boy's flustered expression.

She opened the door briefly to pass inside, and the sound of many voices murmuring at once reached his ears before it soundlessly shut.

Almost immediately the other first years began talking amongst themselves. Harry rolled his eyes. No matter if they had magic or not, people were still people. As soon as the authority figure left their immediate sight they all degenerated into noise and chaos, save a few.

It was these students that Harry focused his attention on. There was the girl from the train ride, Hermione, who seemed to be muttering various things under her breath. Several of the students wearing more expensive versions of the school uniform (with the glaring exception of a platinum blond, with two other students seemingly posed as his bodyguards) were far more aloof and uncaring of the information they had just received, suggesting that they had already known everything that the professor had told them.

In less than a minute, the Professor came back and brought them through the doors.

Harry looked around the great hall in wonder. Yes, he knew that he was in a castle, but he had not expected the sheer size of the dining hall, packed with what looked like at most 500 students.

He then frowned in thought, looking at the number of students. This was supposed to be the best school in Magical Britain. Was the population of magicals really this low? Or were there other schools that took away the majority of the students?

Professor McGonagall brought the line of students in front of a stool which held up a dirty looking hat.

A hat that then began _to sing_.

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was old. And though he enjoyed seeing the youthful enthusiasm of the students under his care, seeing this group made his heart clench painfully.

The war with Voldemort and his Death Eaters had been incredibly damaging to Wizarding Britain. Many of their more talented muggleborns had left their society, rather than risk their lives, and had never returned after experiencing a better life abroad, even after the war had ended. And many of those that had decided against leaving or simply could _not_ leave were killed. Dumbledore was a pureblood through and through, but he knew that the old bloodlines were dying out. Too much inbreeding and not enough fresh blood flowing into the families. And Tom Riddle had either not cared or not known, but had seemed determined to bring about the utter collapse of their society.

The greatly diminished numbers of students over the last decade had been a sobering reminder of the devastation that the war had brought upon them, one that haunted him yearly when seeing these small groups. It wouldn't be for another few years that the number of students increased, few parents having wanted to bring a child into a war after all.

That war had been devastating, and to his regret he was unable to do much to fight against Voldemort. The Order of the Phoenix did all they could to stop the attacks, but without the support of the ministry they were largely ineffective, thanks to the prejudice against muggleborns that pervaded their society.

At least three out of four wizards in the ministry was a pureblood, and many of them, while not truly violent by nature and thus willing to directly and personally harm those they perceived as inferior, did not care for the muggleborn plight during the war, and so did nothing to limit Voldemort's attacks in the beginning. By the time they realized that they needed to act, when it became clear that he was also attacking halfbloods and even other purebloods that did not agree with his views, his power was just too great to stop.

It was only the miracle of Harry Potter somehow defeating the madman that gave them this peace, fragile as it was. There was still a great deal of tension between the muggleborn and the pureblood, mainly due to the lack of opportunities afforded to these people. It was still all too common for less deserving purebloods to automatically receive positions that they had no ability for, even when a better qualified muggleborn or several had applied for the same position.

A frown crossed his face at seeing young Harry Potter enter the great hall with the rest of his yearmates. He looked confident and strong, but at the same time cold and detached. He did look somewhat impressed at the great hall, but other than that, there was a sense of indifference in his body language that made Dumbledore's heart twinge with worry. This was not the face of an innocent child, but one that was hardened to the harsh realities of the world, and at such an age…

He was concerned.

In her own rambling way, Bathesheda Babbling had mentioned that the boy was under some form of apprenticeship, and that was quite troubling given that the whole point of placing Harry at Privet drive was to prevent undue influence from the magical world in the boy's development.

And if young Harry was indeed under an apprenticeship then he would need to know exactly what he had been learning from this person.. He needed to ensure that this mystery Master's teachings would not clash with what he needed to teach the boy.

Voldemort had vanished that night ten years ago, but that did not mean that he was truly gone for good, as much as he wished that that were the case. Harry needed to be ready to face the man once he was resurrected.

The boy could not be swayed from his destiny, for the sake of their world, for the sake of them all.

* * *

Harry watched as the other students were called up to take their turn and sit under the hat. The process seemed to vary for each student, but each went through similar emotions. Slight fear, worry, determination, acceptance, and in some cases denial and then satisfaction. He smiled to himself. It seemed like the sorting hat's decision could be influenced.

While on the train he had been thinking of his fame and wondering what to do about it. It seemed clear that people expected him to become the next Merlin. He smirked at the thought of how they would react if they learned he had actually been taught by the man. Their heads would likely explode from excitement.

Though he had been mostly training his telepathy since his birthday, Harry had also learned the basics of empathy and telekinesis as well. Empathy was more akin to a subset of telepathy, and in fact was far too easy to learn the basics of. Merely feeling the emotions of others was not at all difficult, but empathy was not only the sensing of emotions. Like telepathy, the more advanced practitioners could go far beyond merely sensing and could in fact directly influence the emotions of others, a technique used almost exclusively by Lantean Diplomats when dealing with two opposing factions.

Sally-Anne Perks was the last student to be sorted before him, and as she went to Hufflepuff he could hear the level of background noise in the hall start to pick up as the students looked for Harry Potter.

He sighed to himself as his name was called, moving forward even as the hall hushed completely. The sudden silence was rather unnerving and he felt his face twitch slightly in annoyance before he smoothed his expression, sitting on the stool and covering his head with the hat in order to not see the hundreds of faces staring unashamedly at him.

If he wasn't already somewhat accustomed to the feeling of another presence in his mind from his telepathy training, he would have jumped. As it was, he had to still himself when he felt the mental presence slither around his rudimentary barriers with unnerving ease.

 _Ah, hello there young Master Potter. Your barriers are not so bad for someone your age, but you should really work on them a bit. Even a mildly talented legilimencer would have no trouble getting through them, but at least your shields would let you know it was happening._

Before Harry could give an annoyed comment back to the hat it continued.

 _So, let us get to it….I see plenty of bravery in you, but somehow I do not think that you would do well in the house of the Lions, their bravery tends to border on recklessness while yours is far more calculated…hmmm._

 _Hmmm...Slytherin is definitely out. While you have some ambition, it is nowhere near as powerful as your other traits._

 _You have a decent thirst for knowledge, but you do not hoard said knowledge. You intend to use it to….Oh my._

Harry felt a bead of sweat drip from his neck as he realized that the sorting hat could see the memory of Merlin explaining his origins and the nature of the universe beyond Earth to him when he was younger.

 _Well, that was not something that I was expecting to find in you, Mr. Potter, but your goals are indeed admirable and your drive to succeed in them is even more so. The way I see it, you can only be sorted in one place…._ **Hufflepuff!**

It took Harry a moment to realize that the hat had said that last word aloud before the hat was taken from his head and the sound of cheering made him look at the Hufflepuff table. He noted that the other tables were also clapping, even if in Slytherin it was only polite applause.

He hid his disgust at the fact that all of these people were applauding because of a false image and infamy that he had never wanted. Walking toward his table he noted many people trying to give him openings to sit. He couldn't prevent a slight scowl from appearing on his face until he saw Cedric giving him a welcoming smile and a seat next to him, though the boy looked understandably surprised by the fact the the 'Harry' he knew was, in fact, Harry Potter.

Harry decided to sit next to him if only because he was a familiar face, and then tried to ignore the numerous eyes staring at him. This was going to get annoying really fast.

* * *

None of the other students received a reaction even remotely similar to his, and though it irked him, he was glad that at least the amount of attention that had been focused on him had now diminished, if only slightly.

The Headmaster rose from his ornate chair and gave a long glance across the Hall, his eyes resting a fragment of a second longer on the Hufflepuff section than the others, but nothing overly noticeable.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though I have many things to say, I believe that they will be much better received after we have all been fed and watered." The man smiled and clapped his hands once, before sitting back down as the previously empty serving platters were suddenly full of food.

Harry startled slightly, and was gratified to note that most of the muggleborn first years did the same. How had the food appeared? Was this another form of magical transportation?

Cedric reached for a platter of crumpets, taking one for himself. Harry decided to follow suit, wondering what other crazy things he was going to see as a student in a magical school.

"So Harry, when were you going to tell me your last name?" Cedric asked, a teasing note in his voice.

Harry felt his face heat a bit in embarrassment as he shrugged. "I didn't know I was famous until after I went to Diagon for the first time, and by then I had seen some of the stuff that was written about me and didn't want to be surrounded by a swarm of fans." He said this with a pointed look toward several of the people that were not even trying to be discrete in listening to their conversation." Most of them had the decency to look at least a little embarrassed, but that didn't mean they stopped listening either.

* * *

Harry followed along with the rest of the First Year Hufflepuffs as their Head of house, Professor Sprout, led them to their common room, trying to sooth his ears from that horrible, _horrible_ school song. It was like the students were _trying_ to sound dissonant, and they had succeeded masterfully.

He was also doing his level best to ignore the continued whispers and not-so-discreet looks sent in his direction, and was wondering if it would have been any better if he had been sorted differently.

Remembering the enthusiasm of the other houses at the opening feast, it seemed very unlikely.

Already he could feel himself longing to go back to Glastonbury Tor, and he hadn't even spent the night yet. To distract himself from the other students he was looking at the castle around him, marveling at the fact that what these people called magic was turning everything he knew of physics on its head. It was astonishing what they had accomplished with their power.

So far, the thing that bothered/intrigued him the most was the moving portraits. He could not understand how something made of simple paint on canvas could move around and interact with other people as if they were the original person. It was as if the paintings themselves were actually imprints of the minds of the people that they had been while they were alive. How was that even possible?!

In a way, Harry was _very_ excited. Exotic particles and their potential uses was an area that the Alterans had only lightly studied in comparison to many other fields. This society, however, was completely specialized in it and used virtually no advanced technology whatsoever. Millennia of relying on it exclusively had obviously led to amazing and unthought of innovations and applications. In this area the wizards and witches far surpassed anything the Alterans knew on the subject in practical terms. He would have so much to learn and incorporate into their technology!

"Well, here we are." Professor Sprout stopped the group of sixteen first years in what looked like a wine cellar. There was a portrait of a jolly looking woman that looked a little like Professor Sprout. "Everyone, I would like you to meet the founder of our house, Helga Hufflepuff."

Harry's eyes narrowed. This was an imprint of one of four founders of Hogwarts.

"Welcome to my House, my children." The woman smiled as she stood up from the potting plants also depicted in her portrait. "As you all know, my name is Helga Hufflepuff, and I am glad to see you all here."

I am sure that some of you are thinking that the hat was wrong to put you here, that my house is not one that is well known for producing powerful wizards and witches, but that is simply not true. Every person has a potential inside of them for something, no matter what it is. My house will nurture that potential, and help you find what you are meant to do. You are all smart in your own ways, so try your best for your house and your house will always support you, no matter what."

"Now, the entrance password for this week is 'cooperation.' The password will be posted with the rest of the house notices every week, so do pay attention."

Professor Sprout nodded in thanks to the founder. "Now children, to enter our house all you need to do is give the password, no matter what the older years may try to tell you." A look of good humor entered her eyes as she said this, and the portrait hole opened.

Harry looked around and breathed in the calming, earthy scent of the common room. Subtler smells like lavender and jasmine mixed with it to make him feel as if he were standing in a wild meadow, not a stone castle. It was strangely comforting.

Much like the flowers, the common room was a soothing blend of browns, creams, and yellows that gave the impression of an animal den. The plants and flowers that were literally growing out of the walls also helped to reinforce this image.

There were six people waiting in the room, three older boys and three older girls. Professor Sprout gave them a nod even as she turned to address the first years behind her. "At Hogwarts we have many students. As such, we give students that have proven their responsibility and good judgement the privilege of being a prefect of Hufflepuff."

At this point she nodded to the eldest boy, likely to be in his last year.

"Hello everyone, my name is Adrian Cartwright, and I am one of the 7th year prefects."

The girl to his left took two steps forward before smiling. "My name is Lisanna Croft, the other 7th year prefect." She looked expectantly at the surly looking boy to her left.

"Edwin Fairbairne, 6th year prefect." He said quietly, before stepping back into the line.

"Alecto Gray, 6th year prefect!" His female counterpart was very bright and cheerful in comparison, and gave a brief curtsey before stepping back into the line.

"Trevor Hunt, 5th year." The next boy stated simply, then gave a look to his left almost disinterestedly.

"And I'm Tonks, 5th year prefect." The girl's bright pink hair suddenly changed to a dark blue and back again as she smiled, and Harry was gratified that he was not the only first year who did a double take at the strange sight.

Professor Sprout seemed to roll her eyes at the last girl's introduction before she spoke up again. "Prefects are students that you can bring problems to when your head of house is not around. I am often working in the greenhouses until fairly late at night, so if you have anything you need to tell me, tell them and I will get to it as soon as I can, alright?"

At the nods she received she smiled, dimples showing on her cheeks. "Alright then, I know you all have had a very long day, the prefects will now show you to your dormitories so you can settle in and get some sleep."

Harry absently wondered what the other common rooms looked like even as he was directed to the first year boys' dormitories by the seventh year boy prefect. He was a little tired from sitting around all day, but being trained into the ground by Merlin for months on end had taught him the true meaning of exhaustion.

The dorm room was done up in a style very similar to the common room, though in this case the plants were all potted and not growing and creeping from the walls. There were more browns in this room though, darker colors. He could also spot his trunk grouped with three others, obviously those of his dorm mates.

"This is one of the first year dorms." Adrian said, his eyes briefly glancing over each of the new students. Surprisingly he did not show any sign of awe or such that Harry was there. Harry was thankful that at least someone in this school had some sense.

"You are responsible for the cleanliness of your own rooms, there are no house-elves allowed to clean the dorms in the school." He gave two of the boys sharp looks for their groans, while Harry kept a blank face, having no idea what a house elf was.

"There are six showers for the four of you, so I really don't want to hear any complaints about them either. Homework can be done in the common room, in the library, or even here in the dorms if you really want to."

"Your classes start tomorrow, so wake up bright and early to eat breakfast and familiarize yourself with where your classes are. The castle can be tricky sometimes, but if you are lost, try asking one of the portraits on the walls to help you and they should be able to direct you. Finally, Professor Sprout will hand out your class schedules tomorrow morning. Breakfast starts at 7:30am and ends at 9:00am. Goodnight."

And with that, the prefect swept from the room.

Harry groaned mentally when the other three first years turned to him as one, the interest clearly showing in their eyes. That was just creepy.

"Ok then," he cleared his throat. He wanted to nip this in the bud. "I don't know what you all have been told about me, but I wanted to start this off right. My name is Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived, he-who-slayed-he-who-must-not-be-named or any other of those ridiculous titles. Just _Harry_."

He took in a breath and held out his right hand. "What are your names?"

The golden-blond boy was the first to recover and quickly held out his hand for Harry to shake. "Ernie MacMillan, very nice to meet you." Harry noted that his voice sounded like someone from a well-to-do family and nodded at him.

The second boy with dirty blond hair held out his hand, though it was trembling slightly. "Wayne Hopkins." He said softly.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley." the last boy, a brunette held out his hand and shook, his grip slightly more firm than the others, and also seemed to be less in awe of him, which Harry took as a plus, though it likely signaled that the boy was a muggleborn.

Harry gave a small, heartfelt smile and a short head bow before remembering that that was an Eastern custom on Earth, not a western one, before flushing slightly. "It's very nice to meet you all, I hope we can get along."

He paused as they all stood there, as though waiting for something to happen, then gave a nervous laugh and scratched the back of his head. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to get ready for bed, I'm knackered."

The genuine chuckles from his new dorm mates gave him a sense of relief as he left to open his trunk from where it was sitting on the ground by his bed.

* * *

September 2

The next morning Harry rose bright and early at five, eager to start looking for a place to train. Just by seeing the size of the castle last night he was fairly certain that given the numbers of students, there were quite a few unused and out of the way spaces within it.

He noted that the other boys were all sound asleep as he quietly pulled on his new training clothes. What looked like typical muggle wear, however, was made from advanced reactive nanofibers to keep his body temperature the same level at all times. Merlin had the clothing in storage, and also mentioned that once they went to his vault, they could retrieve a very useful piece of technology, namely a matter-constructor. That piece of technology could be used to make just about anything.

Harry was embarrassed to admit that his jaw had been hanging open at the explanation of the technology. To think that they could literally create something out of nothing, something which earth's science said was completely impossible, was something that had left him utterly stupefied. He had wanted to grab the technology immediately, but Merlin had just laughed and said that there was no need for him to use the technology yet, and besides he was not old enough mentally to take the immense strain of using the machine, and Merlin did not see a use for it at the moment.

He crept down the stairs, standing on the edges to reduce the chance of creaking. The air felt so fresh in here, nothing like what he would expect from a centuries old castle, but there it was.

It wasn't until he walked out of the common room that he had any problems.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter, you're up quite early."

Harry was grateful that no one else was there to see him jump nearly half his height in the air, barely managing to land on his feet from the surprise.

He turned to see a _very_ amused looking portrait looking back at him.

Harry gave her a respectful nod, trying to force the red from his cheeks.

"Good morning, Lady Hufflepuff."

She giggled slightly at the title. "I am no lady, Mr. Potter, but I appreciate the title nonetheless; now what is it that you are doing out of the common room so early?"

"I...was looking to get my morning exercises in….er, what title would you prefer?"

She giggled again, and the badger sitting on her worktable seemed to follow suit.

"'Madam' would be just fine, Mr. Potter." She replied before pausing in thought. Harry was truly impressed at the level of complexity in the imprint. It was as if she were the actual person.

"As for your morning exercises….you could possibly use the old dueling hall, though it hasn't seen use in more than half a century and I'd imagine it is covered in dust..." She hmmed for a moment.

"Mr. Potter, could you please call for a house elf?"

Again not knowing what a house elf was, Harry mentally shrugged, and decided to follow the founder's instruction. "Can I have a house elf come here, please?"

A sharp pop split the air as a diminutive being appeared in front of him clothed in a long black vest with the Hogwarts' crest on its left breast. "Student be calling Pipsey?"

The voice was very high, and given how little he knew of this creature's physiology, Harry could not be sure whether it was male or female. More study would be required.

"Hello Pipsey, Mr. Potter needs to use the old dueling room for his morning exercises, could you please clean it up before he uses it?"

Before Harry could protest at inconveniencing Pipsey the house elf disappeared with another sharp pop.

Correctly interpreting the look on his face she made a negligent gesture with her hand. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter, it will only take her a minute to do so. Harry blinked in surprise. "Now then, you will need a guide to get to the dueling hall." She hmmed before spotting the badger now snoozing on her worktable.

"Ferox, could you be a dear and escort Mr. Potter to the old dueling room."

The badger made a sound suspiciously similar to a grumble before jumping off her worktable and looking directly at Harry.

Before he could ask how a painting could direct him to another room the badger walked toward the side of the portrait and disappeared from view.

"He'll be waiting for you in the portraits outside dear, don't worry." Madam Hufflepuff explained patiently, obviously used to helping new students unfamiliar with the magical world learn how things worked.

Harry nodded numbly, walking toward the entrance to the main hallway. Ferox the badger was waiting impatiently in the portrait of what looked like a summer tea party complete with gardens and tables. Several of the patrons were petting the badger and making cooing sounds, and Harry was forced to muffle a snicker at the badger's discomfort.

Ferox gave him a short growl and darted away from the well dressed ladies to the edge of that portrait, then appeared in the portrait next to it. Harry followed the badger at a low jog as they journeyed deeper into the castle.

Finally, Ferox stopped in a portrait directly across the hall from a single door. It looked old, the wood faded and worn while the bronze doorknob was tinted green.

"Is this the dueling hall?" He directed towards Ferox, who gave him a short affirmative growl. "Thank you. I can find my way back."

The badger gave off a small noise before it slowly padded out of view. Harry turned back to the door and pushed it open.

* * *

The room was large and airy, dominated by a large rectangular platform depicting the phases of the moon in the center of the room. There were also some rudimentary stands not unlike the bleachers he had seen in junior school.

Harry frowned slightly at the limited size of the platform before shrugging. Merlin would likely approve of him having another thing to consider while training.

He gently touched the band hidden under his shirt sleeve, and though there was no physical sign of the device being activated, almost immediately he could feel a sense of warmth in his mind that felt just like Merlin.

"Hello Harry, I see you've found a good place to practice?" Before his eyes, an image of Merlin appeared less than a foot away from him. Harry knew that the man in front of him was only an illusion generated by the band sending signals directly into his brain, but for a moment, he seriously thought his mentor was really in front of him.

Harry nodded and Merlin spent a few seconds 'looking' around the room, but in reality he was only seeing through the band around Harry's wrist.

"This room seems adequate for your stances, but first we will begin with the normal stretches."

Harry muffled his groan. He hated stretching.

* * *

Though Merlin had insisted on keeping the morning exercise 'light', Harry's muscles were still a little sore from repeating the advanced kata so many times. He knew that it was needed to ingrain the movements into his memory, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy the process.

He made his way back into the common room at 6:45, not expecting anyone to be up at the early hour. If they were, then he hoped they had the sense not to ask him where he had been.

Almost absently, he made a mental note to ask Merlin about providing a personal cloak like those of the gateships. It would make leaving and returning from his morning exercises much easier if he didn't need to worry about someone seeing him.

Thankfully, the common room was empty, and he entered his dorm, shaking his head at his still sleeping dormmates before gathering his school robes and heading to the bathroom.

Unknown to him, one of his roommates was, in fact, awake. Justin was just contemplating getting up when he heard the noises coming from outside their door. A little worried that other students were about to haze him like in his uncle's stories of university, he closed his eyes just enough to see and was surprised that it was Harry Potter that entered the room, looking a little tired and sweaty, wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Justin blinked in surprise. Just how early had the other boy gotten up to do exercise?

* * *

The Breakfast spread that awaited him in the great hall, while impressive, was nothing compared to the feast of the night before. Harry was glad, otherwise he would likely need to spend twice as much time as he normally did training to burn off the excess calories.

The hall was mostly empty, given that breakfast had only just started, but there were a few students there, mainly at the Ravenclaw table intently reading their books and seemingly oblivious to just about everything else. Harry shook his head in amusement. They were playing right into their own stereotype.

Professor Sprout was sitting at the head table, reading what looked like a magazine, only with moving pictures. Her eyes flickered upward when she noticed him entering the hall and she smiled before getting up from her seat, a piece of parchment in her hands.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter, I'm glad to see at least one of my students coming to breakfast early, it gives you much more time to socialize with your peers." She said warmly.

Harry gave her a small smile in response and thanked her for the parchment, which turned out to be his class schedule. He gave it a quick glance over. Today was a monday, which meant that he had a double Transfiguration this morning, then lunch, followed by Potions and Charms.

He took a glance at the head table, noting that most of the professors, other than Flitwick, were already sitting there. He knew that Professor McGonagall taught transfiguration, but the other two subjects he did not know for sure. Shrugging to himself, he decided to eat and work on his mental exercises until classes began.

* * *

Albus' eyes locked onto Harry Potter the moment he entered the room. He had been greatly surprised and worried by the fact that the boy had not been sorted into Gryffindor like his parents.

Though he tried to be discreet, the sound of his Deputy Headmistress clearing her throat made him look away from the boy.

"I'm sorry my dear, what were you saying?"

Minerva McGonagall was _not_ an idiot. No matter how discrete Albus tried to be, she had known him for decades and she knew when he was hiding something. She glanced in the general direction that he had been staring at before realizing he had been looking at a specific part of the Hufflepuff table, as the majority of the room was now doing.

She sighed when she realized that Harry Potter was the one being stared at. From what she could see, he was terribly uncomfortable with the amount of attention, so much so that he was eating at a pace that rivaled that of Ronald Weasley the day before. "Really Albus, are you still focusing on that apprenticeship nonsense?"

Like Albus, she had learned about Harry's status as an apprentice from Bathsheda weeks ago. Unlike him, she had reserved judgement on the matter till she saw Mr. Potter with her own eyes.

He seemed cold, yes, somewhat detached and introverted, but that was only to be expected with his early upbringing with those awful people. No, what she noticed was the way that his posture tensed as more people stared at him, the way his gaze darted all over the hall as if he would need to escape at any moment. That kind of behavior was telling, and her regret about not being more forceful over the boy's placement felt heavier than ever.

Dumbledore internally scoffed at the idea of his worries being nonsense. Harry was too different from his parents, too different from what he was expected to be. And in Hufflepuff, on top of that!

The Potters had been in the house of Lions for the past ten generations. Harry not being placed into that house meant that something had greatly affected him in his childhood, and he was certain that this mysterious Master was the catalyst for this change.

* * *

Harry did his best to maintain his calm, ignoring the whispers as more and more people came into the room and noticed him sitting at the Hufflepuff table.

"Can't believe it….Hufflepuff?"

"You reckon You-Know-Who did sumthin' to his head?"

"...not like his parents."

On and on the whispers went and though he was working on blocking them out, the sheer amount of comments that he could hear made him clench his fists in an effort to keep his temper in check.

What did these people know about his parents? What right did they have to judge him for being in Hufflepuff? Hell, he could hear even other Hufflepuffs making these comments!"

Shoulders hunched and fuming, he grabbed his books as soon as he finished his food, not noticing Wayne Hopkins wave him hello before darting out of the hall with his bag.

Wayne frowned at not even being acknowledged, sitting down at the table with a disgruntled huff. What an arse.

* * *

Five minutes later Harry wanted to scream. What was wrong with these people? Did they not have any shame?

He refused to think that he was using the excuse of waiting for his class to hide from the school population. How was he supposed to deal with the overwhelming attention of all these people? He just wanted to hit something!

Harry now sat in a particularly well shadowed corner of the transfiguration classroom. There was still at least an hour and a half until the class started, but he really needed to be alone right now.

He knew that something had to be done to make people at least look at him normally, but what could he do? He had no friends, and given his time in Primary School, it would be very hard for him to trust others his age enough to befriend them.

His dorm mates hadn't seemed that bad… but maybe older students would be a better choice? He pondered. In general he would think that older students would be more mature...hopefully.

However, the only older student that he knew was Cedric. Even if he was very friendly, Harry didn't know how he would react to a first year wanting a friendship with him. For now, he would have to try to get to know his dorm mates, and try and reach out to Cedric later. Harry nodded to himself, his course set for now.

He then spent the next hour spreading his mental awareness around him, the more often he practiced, the longer and farther he would be able to do this, something that Merlin insisted had saved his life more than once.

* * *

Harry came back into himself when he felt at least twenty minds heading in his direction, all of them his age. Was it already time for class?

He opened his eyes and grabbed his book from his bag under the desk, making it look like he had been sitting and reading the entire time. From what he read so far Transfiguration was an interesting subject, something that would require some very advanced technology to accomplish by the Alterans. He couldn't wait to see what kinds of effects it might have on metallurgy and organic compounds.

He frowned when he noticed the cat sitting on the top of the professor's desk. It was sitting far too rigidly for any animal he had ever seen. Was it a magical cat perhaps?

Curious, he reached out with his mind, only to rear back as he felt a distinctly human mind trapped in the body of a cat. What on earth was this?

He walked up the aisle between the desks, fingers slightly outstretched, only for a low growl to come from the cat as its eyes narrowed. Harry backed off, but peered curiously at the markings around the face of the cat. They looked almost like…

Harry blinked, taking a look at the doorway before whispering. "Hello, Professor."

The blatant shock on the transformed professor's face made him crack a small smile. His ear twitched involuntarily at the sound of the students nearing the door and he made his way back to his seat, leaving the professor turned cat to try and compose herself before more of her students entered her classroom.

* * *

Harry was simply fascinated by the class. Being able to change an object from one form to another, even to simulate life, the professor had been oddly adamant about the fact that they were _not_ creating life for some reason. That would bear some looking into. Despite that strange emphasis, the subject was amazing.

Even the theoretical aspect of the magic was really fascinating. Wizards and witches were able to literally shape an object simply using their imagination and sheer will. To do so with technology took an incredibly complicated series of calculations regarding material composition and spatial dimensions and was still not nearly as precise, quick, or fluid. There was something to be said about the computing power of organic minds, even if it was almost entirely done unconsciously.

The potential that this field alone had for him and Merlin though… Harry could scarcely imagine the possibilities.

* * *

After the double period, Harry's hand was cramping slightly from the difference between holding quills and pencils, but the bracelet around his wrist had been designed to relax muscles stressed after exercise, and a low warm feeling permeated his hand as he walked to lunch.

The stares hadn't gotten much better, and the whispers were even less discrete than before, as if Harry's lack of reaction that morning made them think that he couldn't hear them. He was close to clenching his fists at this point, despite Merlin's emotional control lessons.

Shoulders slightly tense, he made his way to the Badger table, noting the seats opening up to him almost immediately and disregarding them as people that only wanted to know him for his fame. He did give a nod to Ernie though, seeing the boy give him a tentative smile in response before sitting down beside Cedric.

The boy looked surprised to see him, but gave him a genuine smile and moved over slightly to give Harry a little more room.

"'Lo Harry, been having a good day so far?" He asked reaching for a plate of steaming potatoes.

Harry shrugged slightly, uncomfortable as many of the students stopped in the middle of their own conversations to listen.

"Transfiguration was good, Professor McGonagall seems to really know her stuff."

Cedric nodded, before passing Harry the plate. Harry thanked him, though he took very little before moving on to a platter of sliced ham.

"So what classes do you have after lunch?" Cedric said, trying to start another conversation. From what he had observed so far, Harry was not very good at interacting with other people his age. In a way it made sense for the Boy-Who-Lived to have led a sheltered life; it was an open secret, at least for those whose parents worked high up in the ministry, that a number of Death Eaters had been pardoned after exorbitant bribes were paid to the minister. Whoever was caring for Harry probably kept him locked up for his own safety.

If only he knew how wrong he was.

Harry reached into his pocket to grab his schedule. "Potions right after lunch and then Charms last period."

Cedric grimaced at the mention of Potions. "Be careful in your next class then, Professor Snape is very intolerant of every house except for his own."

Harry frowned. "If he's so biased, then why is he still a teacher?"

Cedric shrugged and lifted up his fork, beginning to eat.

"He has the headmaster's favor." Another voice popped in.

Harry turned to look at the new voice, seeing a hand thrust nearly in front of his face. Warily, he glanced at Cedric, who looked somewhere between amused and annoyed. "Harry, my best friend, John Abney."

"At your service." John replied with an over-the-top bow that had Harry holding in snickers.

"Nice to meet you." He said, once he had control over himself again.

"And you as well." The boy said brightly, grabbing the same ham platter Harry had just taken from.

"What do you mean 'he has the headmaster's favor?'" Harry asked after a moment, waiting for the other boy to finish his bite.

John shrugged, "Nothing concrete to prove it, but rumor has it that Snape was a big help in the war, and Dumbledore vouched for him in the trials, so it must be somewhat true."

"Trials?"

John glanced sideways along the table before taking his wand and making an encircling gesture. Suddenly, the sound around them seemed to disappear, anything beyond 3 feet was silent.

"There are rumors that Snape was a Death Eater; one of You Know Who's followers, and that he helped our side win the war. Don't know how true it is, but like I said, Dumbledore vouched for him when the ministry was interviewing all of You Know Who's followers, so he must have done something to earn that…" John trailed off, making another movement with his wand before the sound came rushing back in.

Harry nodded. "That ..spell you just used, what was it?"

Here John looked slightly uncomfortable. "That was a family spell, Da's been starting me on learning from the family book of shadows this last summer, heir duties and all that nonsense." He sighed.

Harry decided not to press him further, surmising family spells were private, and quickly ate his breakfast before bidding John and Cedric a good day and leaving for the dungeons.

* * *

Harry was not very impressed. There was a visible layer of grime on the walls as he walked further down, and the musty smell of mold permeated the air.

He was slightly surprised to see a number of the Ravenclaw students already there, some frantically reading their books as though they had all the answers to life's questions. Again with the close following of stereotypes.

Deciding against leaning against the wall, he stood off to the side of the blue robed students and decided to reread the introduction to his potions book to pass the time.

Roughly ten minutes later, the other members of his year appeared, Ernie at the lead. Harry waved them over. "You know anything about Professor Snape?" He asked, knowing that the other boy had been raised only in the wizarding world.

Ernie shuddered, and even though it was somewhat cold in the dungeons, Harry doubted that was the reason.

"Nothing good, my cousin is a 6th year and she complains about him all the time." He muttered, looking around as if the object of their conversation would appear at the mention of his name.

Harry frowned, again wondering what would drive the headmaster to keep a man so despised by the students on staff.

All of a sudden, the door to the lab opened, seemingly of its own accord. Half expecting the sound of maniacal laughter, Harry was the first through the door, carrying his bookbag and settling down in one of the front seats.

He glanced at his hidden bangle, mentally prompting it for the current time. It seemed that there was still a minute before the class was scheduled to start. Looking around the room made the parallel between the potions classroom and a B-Horror movie even stronger as jars of questionable and creepy creature parts in even more questionable fluids were on shelves all around the room. The other door in the room was locked, and had a small wooden sign with the word 'supplies.'

Right as the second hand was coming up to the twelve, Professor Snape stalked into the classroom, his cloak billowing around him rather dramatically. The man certainly had a flair for showmanship.

Almost immediately, the classroom silenced. The man had a very intimidating aura that seemed to dare them to put a single toe out of line, much like Professor McGonagall. Unlike her, he seemed more likely to hang them by said toe if they made trouble than simply give them detention.

The man then gave a speech on the wonders and dangers of potion making, one which had Harry mentally rolling his eyes at the dramatic language. Bottling fame? Brewing glory?

"And we are ever so lucky to be in the presence of our newest celebrity." Harry tuned back in at the clear sarcasm, surely the professor wasn't…

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry gave the man a blank stare. "I'm sorry professor, I don't know."

The man sneered at him. "Never bothered to open a book until coming? Let us try again."

From there the man asked him a series of questions that he had no hope of answering, the rest of the class watching the verbal tirade with a sense of both fear and wonder. Harry was growing more and more frustrated by the second. This teacher was being blatantly unfair, attacking him with these questions in such a public manner for no other reason than his own selfish pleasure.

They then moved onto note taking for the rest of the class, Snape covering the basics of potion ingredient preparation, making snide comments all the while.

Harry was more than glad when the class was over, having lost twenty points for "lack of preparation," something that had his fellow classmates seething. He himself was barely keeping from shouting back at the teacher, clenching his left fist under the table until it turned nearly white.

"I can't believe that man!" Justin complained as they walked toward the charms classroom. "He really seemed to have it out for you!" Harry nodded, his eyes still narrowed and his breaths slightly deeper than normal. While Professor McGonagall had impressed him, Snape was the polar opposite on the scale.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Ernie asked, looking worried.

Harry gave him a humorless smile. "No, but once I find a way to get away from him I will be."

"What do you mean?" Wayne, who had been looking rather sullen until then, asked.

"I'm going to see if I can find a book on the Hogwarts rules of conduct; there has to be some way of getting rid of that man, and if not, then maybe I'll find some way of opting out of his class."

"But potions is needed for so many things!" Ernie interjected.

Harry shrugged. "If worse comes to worst I'm sure there are tutors that I can find over the summer for an accelerated program."

"I guess." Ernie replied as they entered the charms classroom, where the diminutive Professor Flitwick was currently writing his notes on the board.

"Ah, is it time for my class already? How swiftly time flies!" The Professor jumped down from the strangely sturdy pile of books he had been using as a ladder as more students came into the room.

"Welcome, all of you to the study of Charm magic. Charms are a branch of magic that originally came from the less war oriented peoples of the magical world, like the celtic druids and the romanic gypsies, though the latter tends to be based more in potions and amulets than actual charms as we commonly know them. Charms can be used for practically any task, they are the vast majority of all created spells. though some of them can also be classified as hexes and mild curses, such as the tickling charm."

Harry wrote as quickly as he could, smiling slightly as the professor went on with his introduction. At least this professor seemed to be far more even tempered than Snape.

* * *

The next day

Harry blearily opened his eyes, not at all happy to be waking up so early when he had only made his way back to bed near 2:30 in the morning. He understood that to see the stars they needed to be up that late, but it was still very irritating.

Groaning lowly, he got dressed and followed the path Ferox the badger had shown him the day before. He kept his footsteps as silent as possible, warily looking for the Professors. He wasn't sure if being out of his common room this early was actually against the school rules, but he didn't want to ask and risk losing the time to work on his exercises.

Breakfast was much the same as the day before. This time Harry decided to simply ignore the words of the ignorant masses and stay for the rest of the meal. He _needed_ to get better at socializing, even Merlin said so before he left for Hogwarts. And Merlin was the very definition of antisocial at times, given how long he had been by himself in Glastonbury Tor.

Justin was the first to the table, giving him a half smile before reaching for the toast and jelly.

"Lo Harry." He said, speaking around a mouthful of food. Seeing Harry's disgusted expression he chuckled weakly before swallowing. "Sorry mate, my ma would be horrified if she saw that." He shivered slightly, and Harry noticed his right hand move back as if to rub his arse.

"You're not as bad as others." Harry muttered, his eyes glancing at the gryffindor table.

Justin shrugged as he took another bite, then thankfully swallowed before asking. "You know what we have today?"

Harry without even looking for his schedule replied. "Defense, History, Lunch, then Herbology, Charms, and flying."

Justin looked at him strangely. "You already memorized the schedule?"

Harry blinked. Was it that unusual? "Of course." It wasn't even that complicated, all the time periods were the same, except for Tuesdays when they had flying classes midafternoon.

"Huh...Wait a minute, you said flying classes! We learn how to fly?" Justin's face brightened up at the thought of flying unaided.

A soft chuckle came from behind Harry, who spun around before forcing himself to relax. "Hey Cedric."

One of Cedric's eyebrows rose at him, but the teen smiled. "You guys have your first flying lessons today, huh?"

"Oh, first time flyers?" John asked brightly. When both Harry and Justin nodded, he frowned slightly before smiling again. "Then let me say one thing, do not mess around with the brooms; Professor Hooch will have your head!"

Thus finished giving his sage advice, John quickly swiped the plate of biscuits that Harry had stopped serving from and sat down to eat.

"We fly on brooms?" Justin sounded so despondent at the thought that Harry couldn't help but snort in amusement.

"Well, yeah? How else would you fly? Carpets are banned in most of Europe." Cedric replied, looking honestly confused.

Harry perked up. Maybe there was some truth to the stories of 1001 Arabian nights.

"I thought we just, you know, flew…"

Cedric chuckled lightly. "I think all of us have wanted to do that at some point, but it is impossible to fly without an enchanted object like a broom or carpet."

"What about aeroplanes?" Justin asked, his eyes widening in horror when none of the pureblood students showed any recognition of the term.

"What are those?" Cedric asked.

Harry was also horrified. Just how separate was the magical world from the mundane that they would know nothing about something that had been common since the early 1900s? Not even the _word_ registered.

"They're machines, made of metal, that carry hundreds of people around in the sky, thousands of feet above the ground."

"Hundreds?" John asked incredulously. "The most wizards they could ever get a carpet to lift was 49, and the thing barely moved a foot off the ground!"

"And I don't know what the top speed of brooms are, but the fastest planes can travel from London to the US in around three hours." Harry added, secretly enjoying the flabbergasted expressions of the wizards in front of him. If only they knew the things he did, of spacecraft that could literally circle the earth in less than a half hour or cross the great void between stars, even galaxies.

Still looking shocked, Cedric shook his head roughly. "Anyway, what we wanted to say was don't mess around with the brooms, and if you're good enough, next year you can join the tryouts for the inter-house Quidditch competition."

Though Harry had read all about it, he couldn't resist himself. "What's Quidditch?"

The truly horrified expressions on their faces made him smother a cackle.

* * *

Whatever he had been expecting when he thought of Defense against the Dark Arts, it had not been a man that was so incapable of speaking properly that Harry resorted to recording his lecture and asking Merlin to run it through a dictation program.

In a word, Professor Quirrell was strange. Paranoid, stuttering, flighty, and distracted were also good contenders. Still, they did learn more about the differences in types of spells, as well as the basics of the many magical creatures hidden from the normal world.

Harry had a low level headache by the end of the class, and was even less happy when the next class turned out to be taught by a ghost. He ended up recording that lecture as well, still tired from the late night and falling asleep twenty minutes into the hour and a half long class. Even the novelty and impossibility of a real ghost just couldn't keep him up.

It was an irritated Harry that trudged over to the Hufflepuff table for lunch. He seriously hoped more of the professors here were competent, because so far only four out of the seven he had were adequate. Snape shouldn't be let within a mile of a classroom, period. The man proved the adage that not everyone that can _do_ a thing has the ability to teach it.

"Uggh, how can anyone stay awake in that class?" Wayne complained as he sat down.

 _Good question._ Harry thought grumpily. He really hoped Herbology was a good class, or he would….do something. He didn't know what yet.

"I see you guys had Binns, huh?" Cedric asked sardonically. Harry gave him a minute frown at his tone and the instant recognition of the class they came from.

"I don't think that any of us could stay awake, especially after astronomy last night." He finally replied.

"You don't have to worry about missing notes, he reads word-for-word from the book." James added. Harry was starting to notice that the third year was never very far from Cedric, it was more than a little amusing how he followed after him like a puppy.

"Then what's the point of actually going to his class?" Justin complained.

"Naptime." Was Cedric's deadpan answer, and Harry was forced to stifle a laugh at the scandalized expression on Justin's face.

* * *

Herbology was paradoxically both interesting and boring. The fact that the bouncing bulbs they were working with had some form of musculature, instead of reactionary cell growth to move, made him question if they were _actually_ plants. Modern botanists would likely be somewhere between intrigued and horrified at the utter strangeness of them. Still, Harry did enjoy working with the earth. Even if he had been forced into working the garden at the Dursleys, there was something about feeling the dirt compressing under his hands that felt pleasant.

Of course, the boring part of the lesson was mainly the basic procedures that each student needed to adhere to while working in the greenhouses. Some magical plants could actually harm students that were not careful with them, though Professor Sprout had added that they wouldn't see any of those until after Christmas, and even then they'd be low-level threats. Only the much later year herbology students got to work with the far more dangerous plants.

The first practical charms lesson had them learning the light spell lumos, an absurdly easy spell that was more about teaching them how to properly channel their power into the wands. Harry had a little trouble at first, used as he was to not needing any channel for his telekinetic abilities, but he quickly grasped the concept and experimented with the spell, increasing the flow of magic as well as stuttering it in patterns to form a light that dimmed and then glowed in a regular pattern. He had even briefly toyed with the idea of attempting to hyper focus the light into something akin to a laser, but decided it was too dangerous to attempt at this early stage in his education.

Walking around the room, Flitwick was the first to notice what his student had done, barely containing a look of surprise on his face. What Harry was doing required a wizard to have an extraordinary connection to their magic, as well as high degree of mental control and force of will. He resolved to ask the headmaster if he could work with Mr. Potter after classes, one-on-one. Talent such as this was rare and wonderful, and needed to be carefully nurtured. The normal pace of lessons would bore Mr. Potter and possibly lead to dangerous, solitary experimentation.

* * *

Harry walked with the rest of his year group to the Quidditch pitch where they would first be having their first flying lesson with the ravenclaw first years. The pitch was quite strange compared to what he was used to with non-magical sports, but he was definitely excited about seeing a sport that worked in three dimensions like quidditch.

When they arrived at the pitch most of the ravenclaw students were already there, staring at the 31 brooms lying on the ground. Each of them had odd looking footrests on them, which Harry supposed made sense. It would probably give riders much better control if they weren't constantly sliding around when they were flying. While these brooms certainly bore a resemblance to a mundane cleaning implement, they were truly meant for conveying a rider through the air.

Shortly after they arrived, Professor Hooch strode up to them, her own broom slung over her shoulder.

"Good, you're all here." She looked over them all with her sharp yellow eyes. "Well, everyone, get to a broom."

The students, Harry included, scrambled to stand over a broom.

"Now, hold your wand hand over the broom and say ' _up_.'"

"UP!" The majority of the students shouted, though Harry didn't see the need, as his broom leapt into his hand as if it could sense his excitement. How strange. Other brooms trembled, much like the people who were standing over them. That was interesting. Was their emotional state being conveyed to the brooms themselves through their intent and magic? Was a connection being unconsciously established? Something the enchantments themselves had been designed to detect and foster?

Once all of the students tried a few times, everyone was able to get their broom to come to them. "Good, now watch me closely…" She sat on the broom like it was a saddle, placing her feet on the rests and leaning back. The broom followed her movement, raising a few feet off of the ground.

"Now, you will take turns getting on the brooms. I will come around and help you if you have trouble, so don't worry if you don't get it the first few times."

From there she had groups of nine students get on the broom. Some of the wizard-raised were more than comfortable on them, the brooms barely swaying as they hovered in place, looking bored. Others, even if they were wizard-raised, seemed nervous of the brooms, swaying far more than the other students as they overcompensated for balance.

For Harry, who had been training his body since he met Merlin, keeping his body weight centered on the broom was incredibly easy. The broom felt like it was thrumming under his fingers, even eager, maybe?, seemingly happy that he was confident and comfortable aboard it. Again, how very, very strange.

"Now, when I tell you to, push off from the ground, _gently_." Hooch emphasized, pushing herself off the ground in example and hovering ten feet above them.

"Group 1, push off gently."

"Group 2." This was Harry's group, and he gleefully pushed off, rocketing up at least fifteen feet.

"Group 3."

"Group 4." The last group was the smallest, having only four people, but even the nervous ones were able to get off the ground safely, albeit reluctantly.

"Well done, all of you." She smiled.

From there they started learning how to control the brooms, leaning back and forth to control the pitch and acceleration, side-to-side to control turning speed.

"Remember, brooms can sense what you want them to do, if you panic, then you _will_ lose control of them." She reprimanded as several students wobbled in the air, their movements too sharp from nerves.

"Now, all of you lower yourselves close to the ground, and we'll start flying around."

Though unhappy with having to go lower, Harry did as she said, not wanting to lose the right to fly this broom. In that moment, he decided that he was going to learn how to fly without a broom, even if it took him decades.

* * *

October 31, 1991

Harry was greatly enjoying the Halloween feast after a long two months of school.

Not that he wasn't enjoying some of the classes, it was just that _some_ teachers had reaffirmed his belief that they should not be let anywhere near a classroom. Multiple times.

Still, even with Snape's acerbic teaching style, Harry had not found any books in the Hogwarts Library that detailed other methods of schooling. He had barely found anything about other schools in the world, let alone tutors and other private instructors. At this rate, it looked like he was going to have to spend his Winter break looking into it, given the lack of materials that he could find in the Hogwarts Library on the topic.

Still, the library was good for other things, even if he wasn't able to access the restricted section. Already he had been able to scan a number of books with his band, a software feature that Merlin had added after his first week in order to take as much knowledge as they could about the books. Thankfully all of the books he had access to were fairly normal, none of them had strange requirements for reading them, such as having just taken a shower or waiting until the new moon was at its zenith. The only magic on the pages was used to preserve them, making it easy for the scanners to take a closed book and scan every atom, then rearrange the information contained into a virtual text document. Already Harry had taken out nearly a thousand books from the shelves; the interference from the magical protections around the shelves made it impossible for the scanners as they were to scan large sections of the library at once.

That was another reason that Harry could not wait for the Winter holidays. He didn't mind grabbing the books and scanning them all, but it would take years at this rate with the sheer size of the Hogwarts library. Once Merlin upgraded the sensors and added a small ZPE source to the band to compensate for the increased power demand, he would be able to finish scanning the accessible parts of the library in a week.

Other than Potions,History, and Defense, Harry found himself enjoying the classes at Hogwarts very much. Transfiguration in particular was an amazing class, and they always spent it with Ravenclaw house, much like most of their other courses.

Herbology was the only class that he shared with the Gryffindors, and when he could, he tried to partner with either Neville or Hermione. Both of them seemed to be shy around their classmates, and Harry was determined to bring them out of their shells, much like his roommates had done for him when he first came to Hogwarts.

Harry would never be an extrovert, but he was able to hold conversations much better than he would have before, actually conversing instead of giving short answers only. That was progress.

Hermione tried to be extroverted by speaking about everything that she knew, but it was not endearing her to the rest of her housemates. Harry wondered why she had not been sorted into Ravenclaw.

Neville was shy because he was constantly thinking that his own results were more mediocre than they were. If he was brutally honest, he would admit that Neville was not the best at the wanded subjects or potions, but he had an instinct for Herbology that was second to none. Even Harry, who had spent years working on his relative's front yard, was nowhere near Neville's expertise in the subject.

Harry frowned as he looked over at the Gryffindor table for Hermione's distinctive hair. He had seen her earlier looking very upset as she passed him in the hallway, but before he could catch up to her she had disappeared in the crowd of students.

His thoughts on finding her were disturbed when the doors to the great hall slammed open, the Defense professor running down the center of the Great Hall, his steps rapid and panicked. "Troll! Troll in the dungeon!"

He stopped in front of the head table, now speaking faintly. "Thought you'd ought to know." before collapsing forward in a dead faint.

For a moment there was utter silence, and then the hall was filled with the roar of panicked students.

End Chapter

Posted:1/2/16


	4. Chapter 4

A big thank you to my beta Joe Lawyer for squeezing this into his really busy life, I appreciate it a lot.

And thank you for the support guys, so much of my motivation comes from seeing people enjoying what I write (even if I take far too long to finish up the chapters).

Feel free to pm me with ideas or questions, and I'll try to get back to you within a few days.

Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 4

" _Lantean"_

"English"

October 31, 1991

Hogwarts Great Hall

A loud bang startled all of the students out of their shouting as a somber looking headmaster stood up from his chair, wand pointed in the air.

"Heads of house please escort your students back to the dormitories, all other professors, please follow me." He said, moving down the center of the Great Hall with speed surprising for a man his age.

Harry was impressed, even if some of the other professors did not look happy at this, they still willingly followed, none of them even bothering to wake up the collapsed Quirrell until Dumbledore sighed and cast something at the sprawled man. He jerked awake, looking confused before panic showed up in his face. Dumbledore leaned down and spoke quietly to the man before Quirrell nodded jerkily and got to his feet, wand out.

Harry brushed lightly against the man's mind, wondering if he could find an image of what the troll looked like. The man seemed to jerk back and turned and stared at Harry with eyes that did not seem to fit his personality at all. Harry internally shuddered at the barely restrained malice that he could feel from that mind during his brief glimpse before turning away as Professor Sprout approached their table.

"Alright, Hufflepuff students, please follow me." Professor Sprout came up at a brisk pace, her normally cheerful features replaced with a pensive expression. Her wand was also out, and Harry followed her example, putting the strange incident with Quirrell out of his mind for the moment. He didn't know any truly offensive or harmful magic beyond the basic flame charm from his books, _incendio_ , but he supposed that the light and levitation spells could also be useful if used creatively.

Their passage was unhampered, the students conversing in hushed whispers. Harry was extending his considerable senses to their limits, straining his ears for even the slightest sound. The band on his wrist was also scanning, but was useless beyond a hundred meters due to the intense magical interference that permeated Hogwarts.

If he had been a normal human, untrained like the other students, he would not have been able to purposely extend his senses like he could. So it was not surprising that he was the only one who heard the incredibly faint sound of screaming coming toward them just after they stepped off of the moving stairs.

"Professor!" He jostled his way through the crowd of students, earning several displeased glances from the upper years.

Though she did not slow down, Sprout did pay him some attention, even while her eyes were continuously scanning the halls, as if the troll was about to spring from a wall. Her caution was admirable.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"I heard screaming, really faint, down the corridor." He said, keeping to the point and not offering any nonessential information, like Moros had taught him was most effective in high stress situations like this.

Professor Sprout looked doubtful, but asked all of the students with her to be absolutely silent for a moment while she cast a supersensory charm. Once she did, her eyes widened in alarm.

"Prefects, with me, all other students, protect the younger years." She ordered, and though her students were confused, they knew that something was happening and followed her orders immediately.

Just as they started moving, Harry could easily feel the rhythmic thumps of something massive running in their direction. The screaming he had heard before was more easily audible now, and several of the students started panicking as they realized the stairs had moved away from their past location. That hallway was now the only way to their common room.

"Younger students, to the wall, _now_!" Alecto, a 6th year prefect, shouted, brandishing her wand in a complicated gesture before a dull white sphere seemed to collect at its tip, like the spell was just waiting to be released. The frightened students quickly complied and gathered as far away from the entrance to the corridor as they could, some of them now crying quietly.

With that, the remainder of the prefects, and some of the older students stepped forward, brandishing their wands with resigned, but also resolute expressions. Harry was surprised to even see the fourth year Cedric Diggory step forward as well, though his fear was more apparent than that of the other volunteers.

Hermione Granger soon came running down the hallway, her face a mess of tears and caked dust, and the troll was not too far behind. Given its huge size, Sprout and the prefects with her had little trouble hitting the troll with a volley of mixed spells, but they did not even seem to _slow_ the monster down. Other students, such as Alecto and Cedric, released their own spells, hers leaving a burning patch of acid on the troll's skin, which ultimately did little damage, while Cedric's jet of blue light seemed to have no effect at all.

Harry could see that there was no way that the other students would be able to stop the troll before it got to Hermione, so he stepped forward, closing his eyes and accessing his telekinetic abilities. With a sharp gesture of his wand, he pointed at the ground right behind Hermione shattering the magically protected stone with a telekinetic strike, making the troll stumble and fall to the ground with an earth-shattering crash.

It took nearly ten full seconds for it to lumber to its feet again, allowing Hermione to make it past the prefects crying harshly. Tonks quickly grabbed her, putting her with the rest of the younger years, but she refused to let go of the prefect. Looking resigned, Tonks brandished her wand hand in the direction of the troll, expression fearful, but resolute, as her other hand held the traumatized girl close.

Those holding it off began casting spells at the troll's prone body as soon as it hit the ground, but again, nothing they did seemed to have any effect on the thing.

Harry clenched his hands and closed his eyes, envisioning a massive telekinetic mallet with his mind and striking at where he could feel the monster coming closer. It was nearly at the Professor and her students now, and though his blow hit it hard in the abdomen, the creature only roared and swung down its club, looking to crush the wizards in front of it. The club hit a powerful conjured shield from Professor Sprout, which held, but only _barely_. Other students cast their own shields, bolstering its failing strength as the troll hit it over and over again.

Harry cursed in his mind. With that shield up, it was unlikely any spells could get through from their side and stop the troll. Only someone on the other side of the troll, or a telekinetic strike, would be able to hit the thing, but nothing he had done so far had even remotely damaged it. There was also no way to get around it, the hall only had the single entrance.

In his panic he hadn't noticed Moros' mental presence over his band, and jumped at his voice. "Harry! Focus your attacks on its head, enough damage should rattle its brain and knock it out!" His voice jarred Harry out of his momentary panic, and he acknowledged the order by sprinting past the protective screen of older students, one of them calling him back.

"Potter!"

He ignored Tonks' voice and sheathed his wand, needing every spare bit of concentration he could muster. His hands glowed slightly with the dull orange of telekinetic energy, and he envisioned a hammer striking down on the troll's temple, hoping that the vaguely humanoid creature would have similar weaknesses in its own skull.

The barely visible construct came into being to the right of the troll's head, smashing into the troll's cranium with the force of a speeding Lorry and snapping its neck with the force, a sickening crack echoing in the suddenly still air. Harry stared on in horror as the beast flew to the left and fell limply on the ground.

It wasn't breathing.

He had killed it.

* * *

Professor Sprout did not know what to think. She and the older students had had little success stopping the beast, but her brave little badger Harry Potter used some kind of bludgeoning spell and was intelligent enough to go for the beast's head. She, along with everyone next to her, had heard the troll's neck snap from the force, though hopefully her younger students would not recognize that sound for what it truly was.

When she looked at young Harry, her lips pursed in sympathy. It looked like the boy had gone into shock. It was obvious that he hadn't meant to truly kill the troll. He looked like he was about to retch actually. She strode up to him, and was startled at how vulnerable the previously cold and aloof badger looked in this very moment, as if he expected to be reviled and isolated for what he had done.

So she did the best thing that she could think of.

Harry found himself wrapped in a comforting embrace, and suddenly he felt his inhibitions weaken as a trail of tear fell down his cheeks, his throat tight with suppressed emotion. He couldn't show any more weakness than he had already, he _refused_ to.

The sound of rapid footsteps brought his attention to the Headmaster and the other teachers quickly coming up the stairs, which had finally moved back to their position. They first looked at the scene with horror, then relief, as they quickly swept towards the students looking for injuries.

Harry sat on one of the brown and yellow couches that decorated his head of house's quarters, wringing his hands.

No matter what he did, his mind replayed the events of the night over and over; it was a loop of the troll's neck snapping as it flew to the side, not breathing as it hit the ground.

He had taken a life.

Sure the beast had meant to kill him and every other student there, but he hadn't wanted to actually kill it. Injure it maybe, knock it out, certainly, but not to _kill_ it.

A soft warmth filled his mind as Moros' thoughts touched his once again. It was more than conspicuous when they connected, and though it hurt both of them, Moros had refrained from re-connecting for hours after the event, knowing that Harry would likely be spoken to about his role in killing the troll and not wanting any of the wizards to notice anything odd about his ward.

"Patram." Harry whispered.

"It is alright, Harry..." The man trailed off, his voice regretful as his mental hands ran over Harry's scalp in reassurance, the boy closing his eyes at the mental comfort.

Harry was still very young to have taken the life of a sapient being. Moros himself had been in his mid-thirties the first time it had happened, and to be honest, it had not bothered him, not after many years worth of the Lanteans fighting the Wraith had long hardened him. That Wraith had been about to kill him and his men, stranded after their ship was destroyed near a planet without a Porta.

But Harry didn't have that history to put this event in perspective. He had grown up in an environment that, while certainly not loving, was not threatening to his life. He had never been put in a situation where his life and others was on the line, and while Moros was grateful that he had managed to survive the encounter, he knew that Harry needed to talk through this event or else it could scar him for life.

"Harry, look at me." He whispered.

Dead eyes looked at his own and Moros suppressed the urge to flinch at his ward's eyes, normally so full of life, now looking empty and dull.

"Listen to me, Harry. When you were fighting the troll, what were you trying to do?"

Harry hiccupped slightly. "I was trying to knock it out."

"Did you want to kill it at all?" Moros asked, and Harry glared at him, pushing Moros' touch away.

"OF COURSE I DIDN'T! WHY WOULD I WANT TO KILL IT?!"

"Your intent is what matters, Harry, even when your life and the lives of all those students were threatened, the last thing you wanted was to take life in return." Moros soothed, realizing that his words, while giving him the result he wanted, were far too blunt for Harry in his current state.

"But it still happened." Harry whispered, voice raw.

"It did, and there is nothing you can do but learn from what happened. If you had not defended yourself, then either you or your classmates would have been hurt, possibly killed. Better that the troll die than have it alive and students dead, which would mean its death anyway. "

Harry flinched and moved away, as if he were about to run out of the room. Moros grabbed his arm, and even though he wasn't physically there, the sensation was enough to make Harry stop.

"You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of Harry. Your actions saved the lives of everyone in that room, focus on that. That troll had no thought for the sanctity of your lives, why should you give it that privilege in return?"

"I didn't want to do it." Harry whispered again, his eyes blank as the images once again ran through his head. It was as if he hadn't heard a word Moros said .

Sighing, Moros held onto the boy tightly. It seemed he would need to wait for Harry to calm down some before trying to talk him through the trauma of his first kill.

* * *

The door to the room opened quietly, the sound of softly crackling wood in the fireplace welcoming after a long night reassuring the parents of her students that they were all fine.

All of the professors had been needed to deal with the influx of parents wanting to see their children after the horrific event. Already a team of Aurors had come and gone with the corpse of the troll, and a team of magical masons would be coming tomorrow to deal with the damage in the hallway where the troll had been killed.

Pomona Sprout sighed as she saw the boy lying on her couch, asleep with faded tear tracks on his cheeks. The poor child. The two potions that she had insisted he take were left unopened and undrunk, which meant that he had been alone for hours before falling asleep. She hadn't wanted to force him, but maybe she should have.

She was more than grateful for what the boy had done. Her repertoire of spells was sorely lacking when it came to actual combat, as she focused on growth and nurturing, not dueling. A river of self recrimination flowed through her thoughts. If only she had been more able to deal with the troll, then young Harry would not have had to deal with the trauma of killing another being, even if it was blatantly by accident.

Harry was by no means the only student traumatized by the evening's events, but was by far the worst off considering that no parents or guardians had come to comfort him in the aftermath. Other students had been joyfully reunited with their terrified families, and many family members had insisted on staying with their children for the night. As such, the Great Hall was filled with sleeping bags, both parents and students huddled together. It was quite touching actually.

She sat next to the boy's head, gently rubbing his scalp as he tossed and turned. She gave a soft smile when he stilled slightly at the touch, glad that she could have helped him, if only a little.

With a sigh, she summoned a blanket and a small cot for herself, while another blanket was carefully tucked around her slumbering student. She supposed that it would be nice to sleep by her fireplace for a change.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Harry woke up with a start, the last evening's events replaying through his mind at a rapid pace. Disgust warred with nausea for a moment, then nausea won over.

The sound of bile hitting the floor was enough to draw Professor Sprout's attention from slumber, and despite the early hour she bolted from her cot, spelled for comfort of course, vanishing the mess while gently leading the shaking boy to the couch.

"May I have a glass of water?" She asked, and an elf wearing a nightcap popped into the room a second later with the glass before handing it to her and bowing as she thanked it.

"Here, Mr. Potter, please drink…"

Harry did so warily, wondering why the woman was acting so friendly. Where was the distrust, the fear of what he had done? He could understand Moros, he had killed before, and so would not be as repulsed, but this woman was kind and generous, how could she not distrust him?

Once she saw her student raise the glass and take a sip, she began. "Now, Mr. Potter, the first thing I wanted to tell you is that absolutely no one holds you at fault for your actions with the troll."

Harry stilled, all but radiating disbelief and fear.

"You _saved_ the lives of everyone in that room, myself included, and I cannot begin to thank you for what you have done for-"

"Why?" Harry croaked.

She looked at him in confusion.

"Why aren't you afraid…? I'm a monster."

Professor Sprout gently tapped his cheek, and Harry reeled, staring at her in confusion.

"Listen to me carefully, Mr. Potter. That you are so distraught over the death of the troll tells me that you are certainly no monster. A monstrous human _enjoys_ taking life, relishing in the pain of others, and you have done neither of those things, and are actually hurt over the death of a being that wished to kill you."

"If anything, what you did to the troll was self-defense, and no matter what anyone says to you, _that_ is the truth." She said resolutely, and Harry floundered for something to say in response.

"Now if you'd follow me, I want to show you something." She quickly cast a spell at her clothing, transfiguring it into her normal robes.

Though stuck between confusion and happiness that his head of house didn't hate him for what he did, he did as he was told, awkwardly standing there in his pyjamas until the professor deemed herself presentable enough.

They left her room at a quick pace, and Harry balked as she led him to the doors of the great hall. She held her hand to her lips in a quieting gesture, and cast a spell at the door before pushing it open silently.

Harry looked upon the faces of dozens of students, along with many adults that were holding them close, even in sleep.

Why was she showing him this?

She closed the door again. "Every single person in that room is either a member of Hufflepuff house or their family Harry. Every single person in that room is beyond grateful that the ones they love are alive and well, and it is all thanks to your efforts last evening that this is true. Never doubt that."

Harry felt his throat dry with an emotion he could not name, before he nodded mutely, the image of those peaceful sleeping faces burned into his mind.

* * *

The next month was a trial, as the entire student body quickly learned that he had been responsible for bringing down a troll that had been _relocated_ by the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Not one mention of the troll actually dying was spoken, and Harry was grateful enough to not wonder why that knowledge was being actively suppressed.

He had nightmares of the cracking noise for nearly a week after the event, yet at the same time, seeing all these Hufflepuff students everyday whose lives were saved by his actions was slowly dulling that pain, and making him realize that what Professor Sprout had told him was true.

Moros had also been a huge help, having dealt with death many times over his lifetime in Atlantis. He had also acquiesced to Harry demanding to learn more advanced telepathy techniques that could be used to infiltrate an unguarded mind and induce sleep or other effects through manipulation of their hormone glands. If he were put in a similar situation again, he was hopeful that he would be more able to resolve it without using lethal force.

Harry hadn't completely resolved his feelings over that night, but he did feel like the pain from what he had been forced to do was fading.

* * *

November 12th

As the students of Hogwarts were much more focused on Harry after his actions in the troll travesty (he had to find some kind of humor in the situation) he spent more and more of his time finding out of the way places in order to study without the other students bothering him.

Much of this time was spent in the library. Though he did look at some of the subjects that interested him, the majority of the time he was there was spent focusing on his mental abilities away from prying eyes. He did spend some of his time scanning books, but his heart just wasn't in it, knowing that after Christmas he would be able to scan them all in a few days.

Even spending his time looking at information on other schools had been useless. The only mention of the other schools was from something called the Triwizard Tournament that had been banned after it was decided to be too dangerous to continue.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" A quiet voice broke through his thoughts. Slightly alarmed that he had been so focused that he had not noticed anyone come near him, Harry looked up and saw the familiar bushy hair of Hermione. She looked awful, not that he was surprised after what she had been through.

"Go ahead." He gave her a soft smile, moving some of his books over so she would have room for her bag.

She did perk up slightly at the more advanced titles, but something in her expression also spoke of trying not to look at them, like he would lash out at her for doing so.

That was troubling.

They sat in silence for several minutes, until Harry couldn't take the awkwardness any longer and asked. "So...did you want to ask me something or…ooof." He huffed as the girl threw her arms around him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Harry had no idea what to do with a crying girl, his experiences with his classmates in Primary school left much to be desired and even in the years after he met Moros, his negative reputation had served to keep most of the students away from him. The few that did approach him only asked him for help on schoolwork, which he gladly gave, hoping to make some kind of friendships with them, but nothing really came from those attempts.

So instead of saying something, he decided to just let her hold him until she calmed down.

After a minute, Hermione seemed to come to her senses. "Sorry." She said, quickly scooting her chair away from him in embarrassment.

"It's fine." Harry said quickly, not wanting her to get upset again. Her eyes were awfully red.

"It's just, I wanted to thank you...Tonks said that you were the one who let me get away from the...troll, and that you were the one who stopped it."

"I did." Harry admitted, flinching slightly at the reminder, which was not missed by the girl in front of him.

She looked like she wanted to hug him again, but abstained, a set expression on her face.

"You saved me."

"Yes." That focused expression on her face was starting to worry him.

"Can you teach me? To do what you did, I mean." She quickly added.

Harry felt bad for lying to her, but there was no way that he could teach her what he knew of telekinesis. He barely knew the basics as it was, and was only a Tier 2 telekinetic, of which there were ten tiers. Moros, himself, was a Tier 8 telekinetic, but did not have the inclination to further develop his abilities until Harry came into his life, so would likely be a Tier 8 for many decades more.

"I don't know how I did it, I just wanted to stop the troll, and I thought that the only way to do that was to...knock it out." He finished lamely, hoping she hadn't noticed his hesitation.

Hermione seemed to take his statement at face value. "It doesn't really matter how you did it Harry, you _saved my life_ , and I can't thank you enough for that."

* * *

November 25th

The low rumble of voices was barely a distraction to Harry as he growled and nearly threw another book down on his worktable in the library. Nothing useful in that one either.

It was beyond frustrating. Ever since the Halloween feast he had been discretely observing Quirrell during his classes, but without fail, the man had remained a stuttering wreck for every lecture. He knew that there was something that the man was hiding. The malice he had felt in the man's mind was not natural, if anything it had felt as if there was another being inhabiting the man's head, which as far as he knew from his lessons with Moros, was very uncommon, often requiring incredibly advanced technology.

All he knew was that the mind of his professor was filled with an immeasurable amount of rage and a desire to cause pain. He had been searching through the Hogwarts library for mentions of possession and such, but there was nothing on the subject, almost as if any books remotely related to the subject were located in the restricted section . He did not want to draw attention to himself by suddenly asking for access.

"Hey Harry!" His head jerked up at the call of his name, seeing a bemused looking Cedric staring at his reaction, a book in his hand. Harry's eyes narrowed in on the book. Wasn't that the book Babbling near commandeered from him before the start of term?

"Here, Professor Babbling asked me to return this to you." The fourth year said, sounding a little confused as to why their eccentric professor had deigned to give the task to him instead of doing it herself.

"Oh… Well, thanks Cedric." Harry returned lamely, feeling a little embarrassed. He pushed his chair back to stand up, only to find Cedric already standing next to him, the book on the table.

"Doing a research project?" Cedric asked with a nod toward the pile of books.

"Er… I guess you could call it that," Harry muttered.

Cedric smiled a bit at Harry's discomfort. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it. "I'll leave you to it then Harry."

He took a step, paused, and said. "By the way Harry, I know plenty of people have said this already, but I wanted to thank you for what you did."

Harry quickly realized that he was referring to the troll and nodded uncomfortably at the unspoken praise. Cedric chuckled again and ruffled his hair, a squawk of outrage passing through Harry's lips before he could stop it.

Cedric grinned at the sound before starting to walk away from the table. "See you around Harry."

Harry grumbled as he half-heartedly adjusted his hair to try and fix it. The gesture had felt surprisingly nice, almost like having an older brother.

* * *

December 20th

After Charms

"Mr. Potter, can I please speak to you for a moment?" His diminutive professor asked.

Worried, Harry nodded, wondering what he had done wrong.

As soon as the other students left, many of their faces curious, Professor Flitwick summoned a chair from the other side of the room in front of his desk.

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter, you are not in trouble, far from it really."

Confused, Harry's eyebrow rose slightly in question. Why was he staying after then?

"You see, Mr. Potter, I've been watching your spellcasting from your first day, and from the moment you cast the lumos charm, I knew that you could easily sense the level of magic that you were placing into your spells."

Blinking in confusion, Harry replied. "But it's so easy...I thought everyone could do that."

Flitwick shook his head. "It is a very rare and powerful gift. Most first years take multiple attempts at a spell before they can find the proper level of power output through their wands for the given spell, but you knew almost immediately how much power was needed, and later in that same lesson you consciously changed the flow of magic going into your wand in a regular pattern, something that normally takes years, if not decades, of self discipline and familiarity with one's magic."

Harry realized then what the professor was talking about. From the first moment that he had been learning to use his abilities from Moros, he had constantly focused on control, on sensing how much effort it took to do certain tasks, he hadn't realized that he was unconsciously applying those same lessons here, but the professor obviously had noticed something.

"Oh." He finally said, not knowing what to say. He was supposed to be a muggle-raised student after all, and given the amount of attention these people focused on him the last thing he wanted them to know about was his connection to Moros. The unknown 'magic' he had used to kill the troll was bad enough as it was.

"There is also the incident with the troll…" The man trailed off at Harry's slightly pained expression. He, like all the other students, had been forced to talk to a mind healer, but the man that he had been sent to was more enamoured of his status as the Boy-Who-Lived than worried about his mental state. In the end, his head of house stepped in after giving the man a blistering lecture on professional behavior and deciding to continue talking to Harry for several weeks after class.

"Trolls are nowhere near as resistant to applied magic as creatures such as Nundus and Dragons, but they are more than resistant enough that the average sixth year wouldn't have a chance of harming them with magic, let alone doing what you did."

Flitwick seemed to realize his blunder as Harry paled rapidly, and quickly apologized before continuing. He could see why the boy was upset, but in Goblin culture, this event would be something to be proud of, not ashamed.

"Anyway, Mr. Potter, what I wanted to ask you was if you wanted more advanced work than what we are currently learning. From what I've seen, most of the first year spells have been no trouble, and you knew the wand movements even before the class."

Harry, now slightly calmer, felt a tinge of embarrassment. "I may have read ahead a little."

"Then I doubt that you will find the lessons I have to teach you too difficult." The man smiled kindly. "Of course, this is all your choice, Mr. Potter, I won't force you to take on additional work."

A troubled expression made its way across Harry's face as he realized something. "You aren't doing this because of…" He trailed off, gesturing towards his forehead.

Flitwick's sharp eyebrows furrowed for a moment, before a slightly displeased expression crossed his face. "Of course not, Mr. Potter, I would give any student that showed similar skill and ability this opportunity."

A sheepish smile crossed Harry's face. "Sorry Professor, it's just that….well, you know how everyone is around me." He added in an undertone. "Especially Snape that _Lupei Filias_."

Flitwick hid a frown at the lack of respect toward a professor. Though he did not know the dialect, the similarity to latin and the tone of the words was more than enough to determine what Harry was saying. Snape did not have the best sort of reputation with the students after all.

His students had often complained about the potions professor, but he had thought that they were just speaking ill of an overly strict professor, as all students did.

Flitwick forced his expression to soften and he chuckled slightly. "Yes, I cannot imagine it is easy with so many eyes on you Mr. Potter, but I promise you that I will only teach you based on your own merits, not of your fame." _Need to find out what exactly has caused Snape to be hated by even Lily's son. Young Harry has more than enough of her tolerance to worry about what that man is doing._

"Thank you, Professor." Harry smiled again, small, but genuine. It was nice to be appreciated for what he could actually do, and not who he was. Had he known what his professor was really thinking, he probably would not be so happy, but he did not actively search the feelings of his professors, not knowing if they could somehow sense it like Quirrell had.

"No need to thank me, it is my joy to teach," the man said simply, before waving his wand in a swiping motion, as if he were rummaging with his hand under a desk. A sheaf of papers bound with twine flew into his other hand, which he passed to Harry.

"In there are some of the exercises I give to students attempting to learn better control over their magic. If you need any assitance with them, my office is always open after classes."

"Thank you again, professor," Harry said, bowing his head slightly out of habit before coloring and stopping himself. Fidgeting slightly, he gently placed the packet of parchment in his bookbag and left the room.

Flitwick stared after the young student, wondering. Snape was not a friendly man, more suited for research or work in a commercial laboratory than actually teaching young students, but it wasn't like there were that many other people in Britain with the level of skill necessary to teach who didn't have far more lucrative jobs already. A man like Snape should not be teaching, period, but Hogwarts had no other options at the moment.

Still, if the man's harassment of one of his best new students was that bad, then he would need to speak to Pomona about this before it got out of control. Flitwick knew full well what an angry magical child could do, especially one with Harry's intellect, power _and_ high level of control.

Albus had once mentioned something about watching the Potter Heir for signs of dangerous magic, but he felt that the elder man was being paranoid. Even _if_ Harry had been taught by another magical, that did not automatically mean what he had been taught was dark magic.

Flitwick shook his head ruefully. No, Albus was worried because he did not have any say over what Mr. Potter was learning, and who he was learning it from. He trusted the man, but Dumbledore had issues with allowing others to take control of his projects, and as much as he disliked it, it seemed that Mr. Potter was one of those projects.

* * *

December 23rd

Hufflepuff dorms

Harry lay in his bed, eyes half lidded as he thought of what to tell Moros about his term so far. Moros did keep in contact with him regularly, but that was only to focus on teaching him his martial arts and physical training. The only exception to this was the night of the troll attack, the one that had created the friendship between Harry and Hermione.

The girl had an unhealthy belief in the sanctity of authority figures; at least that was what it seemed like to Harry, whose upbringing made his distrust of authority more than understandable. Despite that, Hermione was a good companion to him. Her intelligence was likely greater than his own, and it was only his advanced training with Moros that made him seem better than her in their classes, though that gap was slowly shrinking. He truly wondered what she would have been like had she been raised as one of the Lantean people back in Moros' time at Atlantis.

He smiled to himself. Probably one of their head researchers.

She had a very forceful personality, but it was party to cover up her shyness and inability to interact with other students well.

His dorm-mates had been slightly put off with how much time he was spending with her, Wayne mentioning that she was an annoying know-it-all. The frozen glare Harry had given the other boy had made him avoid Harry for days.

Hermione seemed to be not well liked in her House, for the same reasons that his dorm-mates found her annoying, so Harry was trying to help her by gently pointing out when she was being overbearing. The first few times she had not been happy with him, but she was learning.

The half-term tests had not been hard, given how much time Harry spent studying. While he was somewhat enjoying the novelty of studying in a magic school, he would not forget his original reason for coming here. He was trying to learn everything he could about magic as soon as possible. Once that was done, he would likely leave the school to continue learning more about the technology of his people, while integrating what he knew of magic into their own technology.

Moros wanted to remove the Wraith infestation in the Pegasus Galaxy as soon as possible.

The man had admitted that part of the reason was vengeance, but mostly the Wraith needed to be removed because of the threat that they could eventually pose to the other galaxies. Their technology, while not on par with the Lanteans, was enough to overwhelm them with superior numbers. If they managed to upgrade their ships further, so that intergalactic travel was possible, or even just stumble upon another race with superior hyperspace technology and steal that, then it was likely little would be able to stop them.

To fight the Wraith, they would need ships. To build ships they would need to create some form of shipyard or failing that, portable matter constructors, which, while not difficult to create, would not be large enough to build ships on their own.

No, they would need to find some other way to create a mobile form of matter constructor, one that could be quickly replicated and work with other units to build projects more quickly.

The problem was that AI was not something that the Lanteans had considered since their failed experiment with the Asurans, nanite based lifeforms built as weapons to defeat the Wraith. Many Lanteans had been sickened with what the High Council had done, forcing beings that were essentially children, despite their adult appearance, to hate the Wraith and desire to attack them. The program was eventually scrapped, and the Asurans bombarded into nonexistence to remove the threat that they could become in the future.

Moros was not amenable to the idea of an AI, Harry had asked and been soundly rebuffed. He was open to the idea of a hive minded virtual intelligence, a being that while able to organize and direct a multitude of individual units, would not desire or see the need to do anything other than what it was told.

The idea was a fairly novel one to Moros, who had grown up with the philosophy that technology should be developed to its furthest point, not left somewhere in the middle.

In a sense, Harry believed that combining his heritage as a child of Earth and a child of the Lanteans would make him a better person than only one heritage would produce. Terran culture had so many ideas and concepts that were completely alien to Moros, which was part of the reason that he stayed holed up in Glastonbury Tor. He just didn't feel comfortable trying to fit in with such different people.

Most, if not all, of these Terran ideas could be brought to life with the advanced technology that the Lanteans had at their disposal, and Harry was more than willing to take advantage of that. No one had access to both worlds like he did, and he was going to make the best of it.

* * *

Hogwarts Express back to London

Harry was currently sitting in his compartment with Hermione and Neville, the blond boy having joined their group after Hermione nearly dragged him over to what was unofficially their study table in the library.

Like Hermione, Neville was socially awkward. From the first train ride to Hogwarts, Harry had known that the boy's grandmother was strict, but from what he had learned over the last few weeks, it seemed like she did not see him as his own person, but as his father's failure of a son.

It fell to Harry and Hermione to try and bring up his confidence, and though it was slow going, Neville seemed like he had stopped making negative comments about himself for the most part.

"So… what are you guys going to do over the break?" Neville's voice, still timid, broke into his thoughts.

Harry shrugged slightly. He and Moros were likely to spend most of his time training, but he was also looking forward to going to Moros' vault with Moros (disguised of course) and cataloguing the technology inside.

Of course, there was also the upgrade to his scanner, but he doubted that it would take Moros that long. Moros had changed his mind about retrieving the matter constructor, mainly because it would make it easier for him to redesign the scanner. Harry would still be unable to use it until he was thirteen, but at least he would get to see how the device worked.

"Just going around London for the most part with my uncle." Harry finally said. He saw Moros as his father, but given the extreme level of interest that the Wizarding world had in him it would be best if no-one suspected anything was different about Moros. Passing him off as his relative, instead of a stranger that had taken him in, would bring about much less scrutiny.

Also, Hermione and Neville didn't know about his less than stellar life at the Dursley year-round motel and he wanted to keep it that way.

Hermione looked positively bubbly as she said, "My parents and I are going to visit family in Devon, and taking tours of the architecture and cultural history there. I'm especially interested in visiting the abbeys and the local restaurants-." She would have gone on further, but Harry gave her an amused look and she subsided with a grumble,unable to hide a smile at the thought of what she was going to do once she got off the train.

Neville looked slightly sad after Hermione spoke. "Oh...well I was going to invite you two to Longbottom Manor for Yule, but it doesn't matter that much…"

Harry restrained himself from rolling his eyes at Neville's self depreciation. "I'll have to talk to my uncle, but I'd love to spend a Christmas, sorry, Yule in a magical manor."

Neville seemed somewhere between embarrassed and happy, but he quickly shook it off. "That would be brilliant, but please don't worry about bringing any gifts, House Longbottom would be more than happy to have you as guests."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, while still planning to give at least a small gift to Neville. The poor boy had not had any real friends growing up and Harry wanted to show him that he deserved a gift besides the (to Harry) obligatory gifts that families tended to give their children.

Hermione looked torn between her current plans and the new possibility of seeing a magical home. "Maybe we can meet over the summer as well? I would love to see what a magical home is like."

Neville smiled shyly at her and mumbled something nearly inaudible under his breath about asking his gran.

Harry didn't know what was going to happen during the summer between him and Moros, but he knew that they would definitely be working on designing the matter constructors at the very least, if Moros hadn't finished that by the end of this school year. Still, he doubted they would be so busy so as to have no time to take a day or two off.

There was a knock on their cabin door. Harry focused his mind on the person behind it and was briefly surprised to find it was Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Come in Justin." He said, drawing strange looks from his companions before he realized his mistake.

"How'd you know it was me?" The brown haired boy asked, looking dumbfounded as he opened the door.

"I've been your roommate for six months, and you stomp around like a Rhino." Harry quickly rejoined, a little too fast to be thought of as fully natural. Hopefully none of the others would notice.

"Like a...never mind." Justin sighed. Sometimes Harry could be a little weird.

"Anyway, Ernie and Wayne wanted to know if you wanted to join us in our compartment, but I see you already found one…so...I'll let them know."

Harry blew air out of his nose as the uncomfortable boy left the compartment. He didn't mind his dorm mates, but they weren't exactly best friends either. Despite his best efforts, taking out the troll had made both Ernie and Wayne believe that there was some truth to the hype of his unwanted title, while Justin followed their lead, not having anyone else to really connect to due to the separation between the houses.

"We'll be arriving soon." Hermione noted as the lights of London became visible in the distance.

"We'll let you change first." Harry said, grabbing Neville before he could protest and closing the compartment door.

* * *

The train pulled into King's Cross Station with little fanfare. Harry followed his friends after grabbing his trunk. The crowd of students was more than a little tight leaving the train, but he bore it as he carried his feather-light trunk down the stairs of the train, briefly surprised to see Moros in the same clothes and jacket he had worn when he dropped Harry off in September.

Harry did not run up to him, but his pace did increase, and he pulled off the cap covering his head and threw his arms around the suddenly uncomfortable looking man. "I missed you." He said, and even with all the time they had spent connected through his band, it was not the same as being in the physical presence of someone you knew cared about you.

Moros' return smile was a little stiff, but truly heartfelt. "It is good to see you again Harry, now come, I'm sure there are many things that you wanted to do this evening."

Harry smiled softly and nodded, waving to his friends before holding onto Moros' hand as they walked out of the platform and into the throngs of Muggles on the other side of the Barrier.

* * *

After being deposited in a shadowed corner of Diagon Alley via the transporters in the Tor, Harry led Moros through the throngs of witches and wizards going about their holiday shopping.

Unlike Hogwarts, the level of magical saturation in the alley was practically non existent, which made sense given that there were no reports of electrical problems in the muggle homes and businesses outside the alley. As such there was little worry of interference with the transporter beams.

"So how are we going to get it out of your vault?" Harry asked him. He had quickly used his band to project a false appearance around himself. For now his hair was a dirty blond and his distinctive green eyes a pale blue, though his facial structure was somewhat similar.

Moros did not seem nearly as impressed as Harry had been with the sights and sounds of the alley, but he did seem somewhat interested, which was better than nothing. Sometimes the man could be too dismissive of the achievements other races made, given how inferior they were to the achievements of the Lanteans in comparison. It was one of his less…. endearing traits.

"We will be placing subspace transponders on the devices we wish to take, then beam them out once we get back home."

"Can't we have the goblins just shrink the items or put them in some kind of expanded container?" Harry asked, stepping around a child throwing a tantrum on the dirty ground while her mother fruitlessly tried to get her to stop.

"I would rather not risk it Harry, several of the artifacts have properties that could be adversely affected by spatial expansion and compression."

Harry hummed noncommittally. He supposed that Moros could be right about certain items not reacting well to magic, but he would also bet that Moros just felt more comfortable doing things his way rather than the magical way.

The goblin guards on the front steps acted oddly as they approached the bank. Nothing too obvious, but their postures tensed and their hands tightened on their weapons. Harry gave Moros a sideways glance, who suddenly looked all too amused for some reason.

" _Whats going on?"_ He asked in Lantean, noting that the guards' expressions tightened even further at the unfamiliar language.

" _I believe that they can sense there is something very different about me, perhaps the frequencies of energy I have are quite uncommon compared to what they are accustomed to from wizards."_ Moros replied in the same tongue.

Cautiously, Harry followed him into the bank, noting how a number of goblin tellers' eyes followed them, though they did not show as much reaction as the guards had. Briefly he wondered if the guards were considered less able than the tellers, which was why they had reacted more obviously, or perhaps it was the inverse and the guards were far more in tune with their senses and detected their differences more acutely.

They waited in line, making small talk with each other in their language, while several of the wizards and witches around them looked greatly offended that they were not speaking in English.

" _It is like they think we are only talking about them."_ Harry sighed as the stares grew slightly oppressive.

" _Then why not encourage that belief?"_ Moros asked with an increasingly common spark of mischief in his eye.

Harry smiled and they passed their remaining time in the line continuing their conversation, but more often than not including hand gestures and nods toward the other wizards, particularly those that were dressed strangely. Laughs were not excluded either, and by the time they were ready to speak to the goblin teller, whose smirk grew as their conversation went on, nearly half of the people there were giving them unhappy looks.

"What can Gringotts do for you today?" The teller asked them, eyes resting only a fraction of a second longer on Moros than Harry, but it was still noticeable.

"My ward would like to make a withdrawal from his vault." Moros spoke in clear English, and Harry chuckled as a number of wizards no doubt hoping that the stranger would have trouble speaking to the Goblin stumbled slightly. Expectations were fun to play with.

"Very well...key please?"

Harry handed over the mithril key noting the slight widening of the goblin's eyes before it was handed back. "This seems to be in order, if you would both please follow Snarlclaw?" A goblin came from behind the ornate doors that lead to the vaults, giving them a short bow before gesturing with one hand toward the door.

They followed him down the hallway to the carts, Harry dispelling the hologram as they did so and earning an amused glance from the Goblin, who seemed like he had known all along. The cart was a rickety looking contraption, and Harry's mouth twitched in mirth as he felt Moros' discomfort at seeing it. Somewhat gingerly, the man entered the cart first while the goblin went in front after touching the key and closing his eyes for a moment.

They accelerated rapidly, magic sticking them to their seats so that there was no chance of them falling off. Harry nearly whooped at the brief weightless sensation before they dived deep into the goblin tunnels, far faster than what he was accustomed to.

By the time they arrived at Moros' vault, the man's fingers were white from holding so tightly onto the sides of the cart, even with the sticking charms holding them in place. Harry, looking decidedly windswept, was nearly bouncing while the goblin had the air of someone distinctly pleased with themselves.

They walked up to a pair of glittering black ornate doors, which on closer inspection were made of an incredibly dense crystal. Harry was astonished a moment later, as his scans depicted that the doors were made of a massive amount of black diamond, as if they had been cut from a single gemstone the size of a lorry.

Their escort also seemed rather impressed, gently scratching the material of the doors with his long nails in what looked like admiration before taking the key and placing it into a nearly invisible keyhole.

A loud series of clicks sounded from the doors as the tumblers rolled, before they swung inward with a low groan.

Snarlclaw waited outside, many wizards were quite unwilling to have creatures they considered thieves be let into their vaults, even when it was said thieves that were guarding their money. Harry snorted silently to himself. Hypocrisy at its best.

The vault was more or less what he had expected, sans the ingots of dark purple colored metal that Harry had learned was known as naquada, which was crucial to the creation of what the goblins called mithril. It was also a cornerstone material of many advanced civilizations; even the Lanteans had used it for their more energy intensive technologies before they had found other methods, and that had taken them eons of study into the fabric of the universe itself. However, to the galaxy at large it was known as an incredibly valuable substance, far more so than gold or any other element he knew of.

Other ingots of exotic materials were easily noticed piled on organized pallets. Harry shuddered to think how much the ingots of gold, platinum, rhodium, and others would be worth on the world market today, let alone the naquada, if Earth's people knew of its existence and what it could actually do. The goblins certainly knew the value and would give just about anything for it.

The majority of the vault was filled with a near random assortment of artifacts, some appearing to be simply ornamental pieces of armor and blades, others priceless works of sculpture.

Moros did not pay any mind to the various riches though, deliberately searching for specific lantean artifacts he thought might be useful and placing a small pyramidal device about as large as an eye on each one, adhering them to the artifacts before moving on.

Harry walked over to the books, wanting to look like he and Moros were at least transporting something out of the vault so as to alleviate suspicion. Several of the books looked so incredibly old that he was afraid even gently touching them would turn them to dust. He discreetly cast a preservation spell he had learned from the Hogwarts library on those that looked like they were in the worst shape.

He wasn't worried about doing magic out of school, given that the wards of Gringotts were so overwhelming that the Ministry sensors couldn't possibly detect anything done inside them. He also hoped that at some point he would be able to make a magical focus of his own using Lantean technology, so as to not be restricted by the underage laws. Using the Lantean knowledge base and access to exotic materials to create such a focus would also likely produce an amazing tool as well.

In the middle of looking through a book on the history of Avalon, which turned out to be one of the few civilizations that the fleeing Lanteans had created on Earth in remembrance of the name they gave this galaxy; Moros called him.

" _Harry, are you ready to leave?"_

Harry quickly scanned the book onto his band, not wanting to leave the information behind. It was much safer than bringing such an obviously valuable book out of the vault after all. He could see that Moros had picked up several artifacts and wrapped them in cloth, so there was no worry of the goblin being suspicious.

" _All set."_

Moros nodded, looking distinctly uncomfortable as they walked back to the cart.

He turned to Snarlclaw and asked if they could possibly go slower this time. Harry smirked along with the goblin when he said. "One speed only." Really, he couldn't see why Moros thought it was so bad.

* * *

Once finished with the bank, Harry quickly made his way toward Slugs and Jiggers Apothecary. Moros wanted to sit down for a bit after the rickety ride back into the bank, and so was waiting outside on a public bench.

The man behind the counter was a short fellow, only a head taller than Professor Flitwick, and was currently using his wand to carefully guide an ingredient up to a high shelf. Harry waited, not wanting the man to drop the ingredient if he was interrupted, and only cleared his throat once the item had firmly settled on its shelf.

"Ah, a customer. What can I do for you young man?"

Harry was glad that the man was not able to tell who he was, though given that he was once again using the hologram to disguise himself, it wasn't all that surprising.

"I'm looking to give my friend something for Chri….Yule, but I don't know of any Herbology shops in Diagon Alley, so I thought this would be the best bet."

The man looked at him strangely, wondering what kind of friend Harry's age would like plants for a gift before shrugging to himself. "Very well, Mr….?"

"Wells." Harry replied. The man seemed to chuckle slightly at the unintentional wordplay and led him toward the back of the shop.

"Normally customers don't see the need for taking care of the plants for ingredients, but we do have a decent selection."

"I'm looking for something fairly uncommon, my friend is a Herbology nut and I don't know what he has in his greenhouses." Harry said, hoping to narrow down the search.

"A little lordling is he?" The man eyed Harry's muggle clothing again, but nothing resembling disapproval showed on his face. "Hmm, well we do have some things, Puffapods, Toad's bane, fire seed bushes…..along with the more common herbs you would find in any witch's garden like flitterblooms and nettle."

"Fire seed bush please?" Harry asked. It certainly sounded exotic enough for Neville to like it. Given his choice in pets, he doubted that Neville would want some Toadsbane, whatever it was.

"Alrighty then, be back in a mo' " the shop-keep said, nearly wading through the trailing vines and sea of leaves before coming back with a bush that seemed to be glowing with heat. It seemed that wizards were very literal with their naming sense.

"It's on fire?" Harry asked dubiously. The shopkeep didn't take offense though, chuckling. "Aye, it is a fire seed bush isn't it?" And when put like that, there wasn't anything else to be said on the matter.

The pot of the bush was wrapped in some kind of thick cloth inscribed with magical runes. Gingerly, Harry picked up the bush, and was surprised at the pleasantly warm feeling that came from it. He thanked the shop-keep and paid 15 Galleons for the bush, fairly expensive but more than affordable to him with the Potter trust vault.

Moros eyed the burning bush just as dubiously, but shook his head muttering in Lantean about the strangeness of wizards. Harry more than agreed with him as they walked to their entry point and beamed away, burning bush and all.

* * *

December 24th

Like all Lantean abilities, telekinesis was graded _not_ on a scale of power, but on a scale of control. Harry had plenty of power, more than a standard Lantean actually, but that was most likely due to his heritage as a wizard . His control, despite having been worked on for over three years now, was only enough to pick up visible objects down to the size of a thumbtack without accidentally crushing or snapping them, which was what he was working on now while Moros put the finishing touches on his own project, Harry's band.

Harry concentrated on the hollow sphere made of thin ceramic, trying to apply just enough force from all directions to keep it in place, but yet not enough to fracture it. It was incredibly difficult. Already he could 'feel' microfractures forming along its delicate surface, though his ability to sense the imperfections was very faint. That too would improve with practice and age, as Moros continually reminded him.

It was beyond frustrating to know how just far he was from his mentor's proficiency. Moros had said that Harry was remarkably gifted in the area of telekinesis, again tied to his heritage as a wizard, but even at his accelerated learning rate it would likely take decades to reach the same level as his mentor, even if he worked constantly and diligently on perfecting his ability.

Harry gently let off the pressure on the sides of the sphere, only to tense when he felt it start to slip from his mental grip, having now reduced the force _too_ much. A tinge of panic was all that was needed to shatter the fragile object. Harry grunted in disappointment before grabbing yet another sphere from the wooden box in front of him with tendrils of telekinetic energy and starting over.

Later that day

Harry looked over the improved version of his band with an excited gleam in his eye. It looked much the same, the material slightly thicker though and a pair of small hexagonal additions about the size of Moros' thumbnail that contained a miniature form of the subspace capacitors otherwise known as potentia. To think that just one of the tiny crystals could power the entire earth for at least fifty years was more than a little terrifying. Thankfully, they worked by creating a stable artificial pocket of subspace and drawing the energy from it until it reached a state of maximum entropy, by that point the pocket would safely collapse, providing no more power.

He asked why the Lanteans hadn't created larger versions of the potentia, and was given a lecture on the exponential scale of power that potentia were based on. According to Moros, their research had found a limit to the size of the artificial subspace bubble they could create without it adversely affecting the real universe. Given the risks in altering the very fabric of their existence, the Lantean scientists at the time had decided that there was very little benefit to improving on the potentia given the already massive amount of power that they could provide.

However, given the power efficiency of Lantean technology, under normal use his band would last for thousands of years, or at least a hundred years of constantly keeping the full body shield active that was now installed on the band. Of course, Moros had warned him that the shield was not perfect, and that it would be best to treat it as if he didn't have a shield at all.

* * *

December 25th, 1991

Harry woke up Christmas morning slowly, enjoying the perfection that was Lantean Climate control even as he shoved the sheets off of his bed. It wasn't that the sheets were actually needed, but he liked having the reassuring weight over his body as he slept, it felt strange to sleep with nothing over his body like Merlin did.

With a yawn, he blinked sleepily and stretched, laying his feet on stone that would normally be freezing cold, yet felt as if it had been in the shade of a summer sun for hours. Just warm enough to be pleasant.

He padded down the hallway lit by softly glowing orbs of light to the sitting room where he had convinced Moros to put a faux fireplace. He did a double-take at the veritable mountain of gifts, neatly placed down by the transporter arrays, to the right of the fireplace.

"Good morning, Harry." Moros' mouth twitched at Harry's dumbfounded expression.

"What is all this?"

The twitch was larger this time. "I believe many of them are in thanks for your actions with the troll, though others seem to be some kind of backlog from previous years when you did not receive them."

Harry frowned, looking at the great pile before mentally sending a signal to the transport computers to separate them by year.

"You should also know that there were a number of 'gifts' that the transporters refused to bring into the Tor given the volatility of the compounds within them."

Harry gave Moros a searching look. "As in explosives or corrosives?"

Moros grimaced as he nodded. "In a way it is unsurprising that there would be those who are not happy at your destroying this Voldemort, so I would like to have the gifts checked by some kind of mail safety service before you open them, just in case."

Harry nodded, looking at the pile forlornly before asking the transportation computer to take the items into one of the containment rooms they used for practicing their mental abilities. The rooms were heavily shielded, as telekinesis in the hands of a novice user could do an incredible amount of damage to its' surroundings.

* * *

That evening

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his new dark green dress robes, courtesy of Madam Malkins. He had complained more than once to Moros about how it felt like he was wearing a long skirt, to which Moros had asked how long Harry had been wearing skirts.

He still turned red whenever he thought of the look on his father's face, part suggestive and part mischief. Harry wasn't sure he liked Moros' sense of humor when it was at his expense.

Neville had done as he had promised, sending Harry a handsome screech owl with a portkey for both Harry and Moros to use on Christmas day.

Moros was incredibly leery of using the magical device, not knowing exactly how it worked. As such he had set up a number of scanners and recording devices around the room that they would depart from, hoping to gain some kind of scientific understanding from it when they returned. Old family manors were always hidden from other wizards, the only way to reach them was often through the floo or portkeys provided by the manor's residents. And given that these families tended to bar access to their floo for anyone but their own families, then all you were really able to use was the portkeys.

From what research he done on them, portkeys were often a temporarily enchanted item that seemed to _pull_ its users through some kind of sub-dimension, arriving at their destination within 30 seconds or so. Of course, it was likely that the transit time was directly related to the distance involved, but he couldn't verify that without actual testing. It would be interesting, however, to see what possible maximum distance these objects had. He was not looking forward to the journey though, having already experienced it once with Professor Babbling.

Harry held the fire bush in one hand, still carefully wrapped and with the care instructions given to him by the shopkeep. He really hoped that Neville would enjoy the gift, and took great care to secure it tightly in his grip before reaching for the portkey with Moros.

The moment they grasped the trinket, shaped as a replica of the Longbottom family crest, a rampant Barbary lion with a background of trailing vines and crossed wands, the world seemed to lurch as the ground beneath them disappeared.

Harry grimaced at the sudden speed of the rotation, feeling slightly sick despite the training he had received from Moros. His legs were trailing behind him from the centrifugal force, and he could see that Moros was doing scarcely better than he was. That was a bit of comfort.

Then, a moment later, the spinning sensation disappeared altogether, and they both used their telekinesis to curl backward, landing on the suddenly present marble flooring below them with bent knees. Harry worriedly checked the plant in his hands and was relieved to note that not a single leaf was out of place.

"Well, that is certainly a unique way to land from a portkey." A sardonic voice, old and female, came from further in the room. The arrival room obviously belonged to a wealthy family, given the expensive yet tasteful looking ceramics and corinthian pillars in the four corners of the room.

The woman who spoke was of average height, aristocratic and fair skinned, and given the stuffed vulture hat she was wearing, was most definitely Neville's grandmother. She eyed the burning bush critically, but ultimately said nothing about it.

Moros made a short bow, Harry following him a quarter of a second later. "We thank you for inviting us to your home, Dowager Longbottom, my name is Moros, and this is my ward Harry Potter."

She nodded, a small hint of approval on her face, before barking out. "Flappy!"

With a muted pop a house-elf dressed in a pillowcase emblazoned with the Longbottom family crest appeared to her right. "Yes, mistress?"

"Please let my grandson know that our guests have arrived, and take their gift to greenhouse five." The elf bowed lowly before holding out its hands. Harry felt the fire seed bush gently lift and he let it go, watching as the elf bowed again and disappeared with another muted crack, plant and all.

"If you would please follow me, I will take you to the sitting room." She said, casually turning her back and leading them deeper down the hall. Every step she took was measured and graceful, like a dancer.

From the walls, countless portraits of Longbottoms past watched them silently, judging them as if they were invaders and unwelcome in the home. Harry frowned slightly. It wasn't just the portraits. The whole home was decorated and beautiful, but like a perfect crystal, hard and unyielding, forced beauty. This place felt more like a museum than a home.

After several minutes of walking she pushed open a heavy oaken door. The sitting room was large, again impeccably adorned with dark mauve curtains and earthy toned walls. For a moment the color scheme actually reminded Harry of the Hufflepuff common room, before the portraits ruined the brief homey feeling once again.

Neville was sitting on the couch, dark earthy colored robes perfectly tailored. He did not look very happy to be wearing the formal clothing, though it was unlikely for the same reasons that Harry had complained to Moros with before.

"Hey Harry." He said softly, eyes looking to his Gran while she directed Moros to sit down. Flappy reappeared with a tray of tea and two cups, which the Dowager took great care in pouring.

"Lo Neville, Happy Chr...Yule." Harry replied, fighting the urge to fidget.

After a few moments of awkward silence, he gave in and crossed his arms in discomfort. "So, how have you been doing the past few days?"

Neville gave him a grateful smile for breaking the silence, apparently not knowing how to do it either. "I've spent the last two days in the greenhouses mostly, Uncle Algie sent me a few early Christmas presents that I had to repot."

Harry nodded, knowing that Neville's enjoyment of gardening was greater than his own. "Do you have a fire seed bush?"

Neville shook his head, looking almost dejected. "I tried to get Gran to let me buy one, but she said it was too expensive and that I had plenty of plants to play with anyway."

Harry cleared his throat nervously. "Well then, I'm glad that you'll like your present then." He said as cheerfully as he could manage, smiling at the sudden excitement appearing on Neville's face.

"You bought me a fire seed bush?" Neville asked dumbfounded. "But I've not given you anything…"

"It's ok, Neville, I wanted to thank you for inviting my uncle and I into your home. Don't worry about getting me something."

"But…" Neville trailed off, looking dejected.

Harry sighed. He still had a lot of work left to bring up Neville's confidence.

"If you _must_ get me a gift, then some sweet confections wouldn't go amiss." He said, trying and failing to keep a straight face at his faux-pompous tone. It was worth it though, given Neville's shy smile.

"I'll do that."

They sat in companionable silence for a minute, before Harry slapped his forehead in irritation. "I completely forgot, do you know of any services for scanning packages?"

Neville's expression all but screamed his confusion at where this question was coming from.

Harry hesitated, not wanting to make Neville feel bad about the number of gifts he had received.

"I got a lot of gifts today from people I don't know with strange stuff in them and I don't really want to touch them until I know what's in them. For all I know the wrapping paper is cursed as well."

Neville frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. We have wards here to take care of that sort of thing, but if you don't have those kind of wards Gringotts has that kind of service."

He grimaced, then added in an undertone. "Though it's probably _really_ expensive. Most wizards just scan their packages on their own or use their home's wards like we do."

Harry shrugged. "We'd both prefer to have a professional do it, in case we miss something, but we'll definitely look into some spellbooks on advanced detection spells, and maybe find books on warding."

For now it was safer that everyone think Moros was actually a wizard. He did not doubt his mentor's ability to defend himself, but why invite trouble? It was obvious now that he knew magics that the majority of people did not, so there was no point in hiding that someone 'magical' had been teaching him. To do otherwise would be silly.

The conversation devolved from there into talking about mishaps during school, Neville bemoaning his poor attempts in transfiguration while Harry mentioned his great dislike for astronomy, given the early hour he tended to wake up. That being said, he understood the dislike for Transfiguration well, it was _very_ theory intensive at the moment.

Their conversation about the teaching skills (or lack thereof) of various professors was interrupted by a clearing of the Dowager's throat. "We will be having dinner soon boys, if you will please get yourselves ready?"

Wordlessly Neville led Harry over to an ornate washroom, looking somewhat forlorn. It was like just being reminded of his grandmother's presence brought down his mood.

* * *

As it turned out, the Gringotts goblins were more than happy to charge them through the nose to check out the packages. As they'd expected, more than a few of the gifts were spelled with harmful effects, including a particularly nasty one that would cause him to bleed from every pore of his skin. The goblins had sent a missive to the DMLE about the cursed gifts at Moros' request, but given the corrupt nature of the wizarding government both he and Harry doubted that anything would come of it. The letters would likely be 'lost' before reaching anyone of real power.

The gifts that were safe were opened, catalogued, and then sorted based on their usefulness. Toys and games were kept in order to be donated to magical orphanages and toy banks, except for those few that he wanted to keep. Books were also sorted, and any duplicates were going to be sold to the second-hand magical bookstores. Artifacts, after being triple checked by the goblins, were kept at the Tor, where Moros would have a chance to examine them and learn how they worked. Finally, the funds he received would be placed in his Gringotts vault.

However, that left Harry the tedious process of sending thank you notes to all of those people who had sent him gifts and money. After his handwriting was sampled, he ended up creating a form letter for each of the categories then filling in the appropriate blanks, using the transporter to 'print' out each copy with Moros' permission. Once he finished with all of the letters he would have to hire an owl delivery service to send them all, given the sheer volume. But he did it, knowing that it would be incredibly rude not to thank these people for what they had given him, especially his yearmates and their families.

* * *

Hogwarts Great Hall,

February 12th

Once back from the Holidays, school life settled back into the same routine as before, attending classes and completing assignments while working on his Lantean studies simultaneously.

It was good to be back. When he had first gone to Hogwarts he had been more than a little uncertain about how much he would like interacting with his peers, but he was pleasantly surprised by how much he did enjoy it. Moros was a great conversationalist, but he was still separated from the man by so many factors, especially his age. Being around other adolescents (he refused to use the word _children_ ) was cathartic in a way.

After Moros had learned that wards in family homes could prevent the Ministry from detecting underage magic use, he had changed the shielding for the Tor so that it would do much the same.

Harry had been casting spells for hours on end for the man to study, refusing to complain even when he was exhausted. The vacation was the only time they had to meet before Harry went back to school for the next six months so he wanted to give Moros all the raw data that he could before leaving.

One of the things they had discovered was that magicals emanated a weak sort of electromagnetic field that grew stronger the more they used their abilities. This partly explained what caused the belief that magic would always short out technology. What was interesting, however, was that the more static magics, such as the permanent wards in Diagon, were saturated with contained exotic particles that somehow did not harm the magicals in the slightest. Moros theorized that it was their control over these particles that resulted in their diverse abilities, though was at a loss to explain how they did so without more data.

Portkeys were also interesting in that they were a form of space folding that used two anchors, one being the starting point and the other being the destination. The portkey itself was a bridge of sorts, using its rotation to further propel its users toward their destination by 'pushing off' on the sub-dimension they were traveling through. Their speed was glacially slow by Lantean standards, but for a race without any advanced technology, solely biologically based energy manipulation, it was more than a little impressive.

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Harry had immediately used their increased knowledge to scan Professor Quirrell, _needing_ to know what was wrong with the man. The malice he had felt in that man's mind still worried him, especially given that it was in a place full of students unable to defend themselves against such malice. The results were highly disturbing.

From what he had scanned of the man during his first class of the new term, there were _two_ energy fields coming from him, instead of one. It was soon certain that the man was playing host to another's spirit, given the disparity in the strengths of the fields. The parasitic field was particularly focused under the man's ever present turban, and from what he had learned from the elder years, this was the first year the man had taught wearing that turban. It was obvious that he was hiding something under it, now he just had to do something to expose whatever it was.

An explosion of laughter jerked him out of it, and he saw that the Slytherin table was covered in students with increasingly ridiculous hairstyles. Most had hair in eye-watering colors such as neon orange and green, while others had more tame colors with much wilder spikes and broom-shaped heads of hair.

The headmaster could be seen chuckling quietly, though Professor Snape looked close to spitting nails. "Mssrs Weasley! Detention with me for the rest of the month!"

"Now now Severus, it was all in good fun." Dumbledore said jovially, looking at the unrepentant twins over his eyeglasses. "However, some punishment is warranted for the mess they made of your house table... a week of detention cleaning your cauldrons should do the trick."

Snape looked to be even more furious, especially as the twins knew they would get away with it by the smug grins on their faces, giving each other a blatant high five.

Harry hadn't had much contact with them, but their penchant for mischief was legendary within the halls of Hogwarts. He looked to Quirrell's covered head again, and realized he had his answer.

* * *

It was child's play to sneak up to the twins in the middle of dinner with the band's cloak engaged. He had prepared a note, using flat square letters that were nothing like his usual writing style and it asked the twins if they could possibly find a way to show the hall what was under Professor Quirrell's turban.

It was risky, but given the level of power that man had and the power of the headmaster and other teachers he hoped that they would be able to stop the man should he react badly.

If he were the type, he would be biting his fingernails in nervous anticipation the next morning. The twins looked even more excited than usual, and he could spy the note in one of their hands as they gestured to each other furiously, then gave subtle glances toward the head table.

Finally one of them began writing down something on a piece of parchment, looking like a list of sorts. Harry smiled despite his worry. Quirrell's days at Hogwarts were numbered.

* * *

February 18th

Great Hall

The next few days were a blur of classes and worry over the Quirrell situation, so much so that even the normally oblivious Justin asked him if he was sick as they sat down. Harry, who had been looking at the Weasley twins' manic smiles, knew that whatever they were going to do, it was likely to be soon. He almost didn't hear Justin's question, but his brain caught up a moment later.

"No, I'm fine, Justin." Harry lied with a smile, and knew it was obvious he was doing so. Justin didn't press him for it though, even if he looked a little hurt. He didn't want to lie, but he couldn't afford suspicion from the professors, especially if he was the only one who knew that there was something seriously wrong with Quirrell.

Breakfast began normally, but that quickly changed as a very unsubtle spell from one of the twins struck a platter in the middle of the Gryffindor table, splattering food all over the Gryffindor chasers. Outraged, Katie and Alicia retaliated in the general direction of the twins, banishing mass amounts of eggs and bacon at their faces.

The twins promptly ducked, allowing the food to come sailing over to the Hufflepuff table. Harry was barely able to react in time, hooking his hands under the bench and leaning back as many of his yearmates were splattered with flying food.

"What in the-" Justin spluttered next to him, his shirt and face covered in pumpkin juice; and promptly threw food back at the Lion table. From there on, the chaos spread, until the Hall was having a fully fledged food fight. Not even the teachers table was spared, as the twins aimed several platters of food directly at professors Quirrell and Snape. Quirrell, who had been deeply reading the daily Prophet, was unable to react in time, while Snape's wand whipped up and a translucent barrier appeared, shielding him from the flying food.

Dumbledore appeared to be enjoying the chaos, even sending some of his food toward Flitwick, who excitedly diverted it toward his Ravens, who had been largely spared until now.

"Students! Stop this nonsense this instant!" McGonagall nearly shrieked, and the hall froze on instinct. She hadn't been in the hall when the food fight started, and in the chaos none of them had seen her enter.

There was also the fact that none of them had ever seen their professor looking this angry. Her robes were spotless, given her late arrival, but her cheeks were flushed red with indignation and fury.

"Who is responsible for this mess?" She demanded, her eyes automatically locking onto the Weasley twins, who were completely covered in food. They both gave looks of innocence that a kitten could not find fault with, but the Professor was having none of it.

She was surprised as the normally unfoppish Professor Quirrell stood from his seat, turban and upper robes soaked in meat juices. "I-i-if y-you'll e-excuse m-me." He stuttered out, looking quite upset and grasping at his filthy turban as he began walking out of the great hall.

"If you'll allow me Quirinus." Dumbledore waved his wand, sending a cleaning spell at the turban, which remained the same, the spell not even touching the fabric. The professor walked faster, his hands still on the turban, while Dumbledore's eyes narrowed in suspicion, casting a dispelling charm at the turban, which unwrapped, showing a face shaped protrusion coming out the back of the man's skull.

The majority of the hall screamed in terror at the sight, and even as Quirrell whipped about to curse the headmaster, a barrage of spells from the head table slammed into him, knocking him out cold.

"Prefects, if you will please lead the students to the common rooms, it seems we have a bit of a situation here." Dumbledore stated calmly, but Harry could see a protective fury in the man's body language, along with a host of other emotions.

Quirrell's body began to convulse, and a black mist seemed to seep from his very pores that formed into a shadowy shape with eyes like coals. The students watched in terrified fascination as the shape gave a long threatening hiss before flying upward and out of the ceiling of the great hall. Dumbledore gave a grave look toward the prefects, who were caught up in the spectacle, and his gaze was like the sound of shattering glass, all of a sudden the prefects quickly began calling the students to them and organizing them in lines for roll call before leaving the hall.

"Minerva, if you will please call the Aurors and tell them we may have need for the Unspeakables as well." He said softly, so much so that even Harry's advanced senses were barely able to hear it as he left with the rest of his house.

* * *

Hufflepuff 1st Year dorms

"You knew something about Quirrell, didn't you." Justin accused him quietly. Harry was glad that he at least had the sense to not say it in front of the whole house, though with Ernie being the loudmouth he was, the time that it took for it to spread was likely to be low.

Harry sighed, thoughts spinning as he debated the merits of denying it, then sighed and tried to craft a serviceable story. "I did, there was something about him that always bothered me from the first day of class, so I started spying on him. At first I got nothing, but then I would wait outside of his office until he thought he was alone. Sometimes he would start talking to someone, even though no-one else had entered the room, and the other person's voice was strange, like they weren't human."

He paused, noting how the others were enthralled with his story. "I also asked the older years, and they said that this was the first time that he had been the defense professor, and that he had never worn that turban before this year. Same with the stutter."

"But how did you know he was…possessed?" Wayne asked.

Harry paused only slightly. "I went to Diagon over Chr-Yule and looked into the bookstores for books on magical maladies; a massive and sudden change in personality or behavior was one of the symptoms of possession...and I knew it was somehow connected to the turban."

"Wait wait wait...so the whole food fight was on purpose?" Ernie asked in disbelief. The thought of danger barely passed through his mind compared to how Harry had manipulated the events to expose their professor. It was actually a little scary.

Harry nodded, shoulders subconsciously hunched at the condemnation he expected from them.

Ernie gave a sidelong glance at Wayne and Justin at Harry's defensive behavior before patting him forcefully on the back.

"Merlin, Harry...I'm glad you're on our side."

Harry looked at him in shock, before his mouth twitched into a smile. "He was a bad professor anyway." He said, and grinned a little harder as they all laughed, the tension now gone like dust in the wind.

End Chapter

Originally posted 8/10

Beta version posted 8/20


	5. Chapter 5

Hey everyone.

First off, I wanted to say I'm sorry for taking so long to update. I won't try to make excuses for why it took so long, other than not really having any motivation to write.

This chapter is currently unbetaed. I went over it many times to try and find all my mistakes and typos, but I probably missed a few.

Thank you to all of you who are sticking with this story, I really appreciate it. And just a warning, do not expect events to mirror those of those in the books, I have made it my mission to shake things up from canon.

Enjoy.

Chapter 5

March 24th, 1992

Defense against the Dark Arts

Harry waited in his seat impatiently as he cast another tempus. **9:55**

Where was their new teacher? Headmaster Dumbledore said he found a temporary replacement this morning at breakfast, so what was taking them so long to get here? Though he didn't want to admit it, he was also anxious about what this would do for his learning. He had been studying on the side after experiencing Quirrell's abysmal speech impediment, but that did not mean he wanted to rely on that alone. Without a teacher, half of his progress was made on trial and error, and that was unacceptable for such a potentially dangerous type of learning.

Like him a large number of students were looking around anxiously. The death of Quirrell had greatly shaken the school, as had the howlers that could be heard several floors down from the Headmaster's office for the days after that event. Why the headmaster put up with them Harry had no idea, surely he could have destroyed them before they activated?

"Good morning students." Speaking of the devil…

The headmaster was wearing relatively tame clothing by his standards, robes of blue and yellow animated stars, and he was alone. Harry's eyes widened as he gave a sidelong glance to Ernie, who looked just as shocked. The _headmaster_ was teaching them defense?

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle at the reactions of his students. "It has been many years since I have taught such a large class, so I do hope that you will all forgive me if my lectures turn out to be dry and boring at first."

He clapped his hands jovially. "That being said, I would like to continue on where your previous professor's notes indicated that you left off, you were learning about the class I dark creatures were you not?"

Several dumb nods were given back to him, many of the students still in shock that _the_ Dumbledore was going to be teaching them defense.

"Mr. Potter, can you please tell me what your class was last studying?"

Harry's eyes looked into the Headmaster's own as he prepared to answer, only to feel a whisper of a touch against his mind.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was many things, but one could not say he was incautious. After fighting in the War against Grindelwald and then again in the civil war with Voldemort, one either learned caution or was likely to be killed.

Harry had confounded him with his behavior in the start of the term, seeming to be quite similar to a young Tom Riddle in his isolationist behavior. The unknown magic that Harry wielded so easily had been enough to kill a troll, even if Pomona insisted it had been by accident, such magic was incredibly dangerous for an eleven year old to wield. This danger was the main reason Dumbledore had decided to withhold James' cloak, unsure if he could trust Harry with it.

Unfortunately, his other efforts to test Harry had failed. The boy had no interest in searching for what was in the third floor corridor, instead seemingly content with burying himself in books, much like Lily Evans had in her first few years. Without the cloak, Harry had not had any desire to explore, as none of the portraits in the castle had ever told him of such episodes.

And now, this situation with Quirinus had Dumbledore quite suspicious. That the Weasley twins had hit Quirinus with so much food could have been a coincidence, given how close the former professor had been sitting next to Severus, but something was telling him that Harry was involved. After going through his own memories of the past few days, he was sure of it.

Harry had been giving Quirinus more than a few contemplative glances in the days before the food fight, as well as at the Weasley twins, whom he had no interactions with as far as Dumbledore knew.

It wasn't conclusive, but he was fairly certain that the sequence of events before the Weasley instigated food fight were enough proof to test his theory.

When he asked Harry to answer his question, he had been hoping to glean some information about what Harry had been taught over the years, or at least if he had been involved in the revealing of Quirinus.

Instead of finding an open mind however, he found himself ghosting along a seemingly smooth and impenetrable silver surface without any marks or imperfections.

Outside of the mental world he saw Harry's eyes narrow in confusion, then anger, and the smooth surface seemed to ripple before spikes of the unknown material tore through his underpowered mental probe violently, ripping him away from the boy's mind.

"We were studying Horklups, Professor." Harry answered smoothly, his eyes staring into Dumbledore's own with an intensity that _dared_ for him to try again.

Dumbledore decided that he had done enough damage for today. Not expecting that Mr. Potter had some form of mental defense would set back any attempts to improve their relationship for years at best.

"Thank you Mr. Potter, if you will all turn to the relevant pages in your textbooks we will continue with the lesson."

* * *

May 25th

Hogwarts Library

"Hermione, you need to relax!" Harry whispered exasperatedly, eyes looking for Madam Pince.

Hermione, despite having some of the highest marks in their year was frantic with worry over the exams, so much so that she had dragged Harry and Neville into the Library in order to study for them for the past week.

"I will not relax Harry James Potter! The exams are in a week and there is no way we are ready for them!" She hissed, closing her potions textbook and putting away a list of ingredients, their locations, and typical reactions before taking another sheaf of parchment from her bag along with their History of Magic textbook.

Ernie, who had been pulled over by Harry to enjoy the benefits (really to act as buffer from Hermione's study fervor) of a great study partner was in the midpoint between catatonia and fear, which was truly impressive to see.

"Is she always like this?" He whispered, eyes wide, as Hermione continued scribbling down a truly massive list of events in their wizarding History text with all the major details in smaller bulletpoints.

Harry was glad that Moros had healed his eyesight when he was young, otherwise he doubted that he would have been able to read the miniscule handwriting even with glasses. How Hermione was able to do so he had no idea.

"She was worse at the beginning." He said quietly, with a mischievous smile. "But we're working on her."

Ernie paled further, especially as Hermione began muttering under her breath about not having enough details and starting over on a new sheet of parchment.

"Hermione, do you mind if I keep this one?" Harry asked, and the witch barely spared a second to nod before going back to her new list.

Harry looked at Ernie with a finger to his lip as he took a blank piece of parchment from his bag, Neville looking on amused as he studiously ignored Hermione's frantic writing.

Harry touched his wand to Hermione's notes, while simultaneously using the band around his wrist to scan all the words in. After a split second of deciphering the writing Harry had the band place the ink onto the parchment in a copy of his larger, more legible (at least in his own opinion) handwriting as he pressed his wand into it to keep up the charade.

He continued doing so with several other sheets of parchment, fitting the pertinent details that Hermione had put down while removing the more esoteric facts that would have no use for an exam.

After fifteen seconds, the earlier version of her notes was gone, replaced with his own condensed form which he quickly duplicated three times.

"Hermione, here, I think these will work." He said, giving her a copy of the notes. Hermione near-snatched the study guide from his fingers, reading over it quickly before grumbling. "Why do you always have to use that stupid family spell?"

Harry smiled, unrepentant. "To keep you from getting an ulcer before you're twenty."

Hermione visibly forced down the smile that tried to form before she harrumphed. "And of course you can't teach me this spell because it's part of your family magics." She uttered darkly.

Harry winced, knowing what was coming next. Behind his back he counted down with his fingers as the eruption grew nearer. Ernie looked at his back in confusion, then realization at Neville's resigned expression.

He was off by a second, as Hermione burst out.

"I still think it's quite unfair that the pureblood families get to keep all those spells to themselves!"

"Hermione, you know-"

"It's just not fair, muggleborns come into this society not knowing anything-"

"And there is nothing we can do about that, with the laws on underage magic the way they are."

But Hurricane Hermione was working herself up into a major tirade.

"Its laws like those that make those stupid purebloods think they are so much better than us!"

Hermione paused, Her face reddening with embarrassment at realizing she was speaking to three pureblood heirs and not her fellow muggleborn students.

"I meant like Malfoy." she mumbled.

Harry's lip twitched at the comment, more than glad he had read far enough into later year spellbooks for the silencing spells around their table. Otherwise Madam Pince would have long since evicted them from the Library.

"You know I agree with you Hermione, but there are reasons that the Families have for not sharing the magicks of their line." Harry said soothingly, having gone through this topic with her before.

"But so much could be learned, if they stopped hiding all this magic from others then we could all learn faster. They're just keeping it to themselves so that they look better!" She huffed angrily.

"And what of the families who specialize in the darker arts?" Ernie asked quietly.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Ernie shook his head and continued. "Some magicks are better kept locked up, otherwise a lot of dark wizards would be much more dangerous than they were before knowing of them."

"Then why can't they restrict those spells and spread around the other ones? How can they keep things that will help everyone away from them! It's so selfish!"

"Hermione." Neville looked uncharacteristically serious. "One of the reasons many purebloods can't stand muggleborns is the same thing you are doing right now. Demanding that they release something that has been their livelihood, the tireless work of their ancestors, is mortally offensive to most of the elder families."

Hermione's mouth shut with a snap, looking like she wanted to argue before Harry said. "Anyway, we have gotten off point, I made these notes from your own, like always, and they have all the information you will need for the exam Hermione, I am sure of it."

Distracted by thoughts of the exams again, Hermione quickly turned her attention back to the study guide, leaving the three boys around her to look at each other with tired expressions. They would be more than glad when all the exams were over.

Harry did frown though at Hermione's continued complaints about family spells. If she wasn't careful she could find herself in deep trouble with the Ministry when she was older, as they looked upon such demands, even if made by a student, quite badly.

* * *

Glastonbury Tor

July 5th, 1992

After a long school year, Harry was more than happy to return to the one place he considered home.

The end of year exams had not been too difficult, though that was likely because of the near zealotry Hermione had in driving everyone in their group to study for them. Harry had done very well, not a perfect score, but close.

Hermione, to no-one in their group's surprise had the highest average out of their year in everything but potions, though as Neville had put it on the train ride back to King's Cross, that was only because Snape was "an opinionated tosser."

Harry could attest to that, given his own score of Poor even though his exam potion was near identical to Ernie's, who received an Acceptable.

He hated that the man who taught them was so biased, but short of leaving the school and his friends behind, or finding a tutor in a country known for its lack of high quality potions masters, he was stuck with him. They had put a request through the goblins, though most options they came up with would require him to either leave Britain for the summer or use transcontinental portkeys, which he was unwilling to do given their shoddy reputation among muggleborns and purebloods alike.

So instead of worrying about potions, he was now working with his father on a new project, namely learning how to use a more primitive form of Lantean construction and design technology. A smile flashed prominently on his face as he 'touched' the holographic projection in front of him, elongating the starting sphere simply by grasping the north/south poles between his thumbs and forefingers. The closest analogue to the technology would be the autocad software at that moment used in the aerospace and mechanical design industries.

Moros hid a smile at the childlike glee his ward was displaying at the technology. The seemingly solid projections were a staple of Lantean engineering before they perfected their mental control technology, but some Lanteans still preferred using a manual interface for design given the strain their more advanced technologies could have on their minds over time.

It was a workaround he had decided upon to give Harry experience in designing and producing mechanical components, the boy had already finished his summer assignments and it would be useful to have his input in the design process.

After an hour of work Harry's hands were wrapped around a projection of a head sized ellipsoid. The design had three crescent bands of metal placed with radial symmetry extending from its equator of the ellipsoid, all pointing north to south.

The bands of metal were a combination of scanner, beaming station, and mapping computer that cooperated with each other and once they finished designing the VI, could in theory cooperate with other drones of the same design.

Theoretically, they would be able to take any raw material and use it to fabricate another with the same molecular mass, or if provided with adequate energy, create matter itself, though naquada took far more energy than its molecular mass would suggest given its unique chemical properties.

After examining his student's design, Moros found only a few faults.

The power distribution system would need to be tuned somewhat to deal with unexpected power surges, and the design did not have the hardiness to survive in the extreme environmental conditions of space, but it was a very good first attempt at a autonomous construction drone.

Now all that was needed was to find a suitable barren system for resources, which would require access to the gate in the Lantean Outpost in Antarctica.

To find that system, he wanted to create a small probe design with Harry's assistance. It would both be a project to further show his son's understanding of Lantean technology and later be used to establish a reliable network of sensor satellites throughout Avalon and the Pegasus Galaxy.

Their ships had immense sensor range, but even they could not cover more than a hundredth of Avalon at a time in detail. Hyperspace signatures were easy, but anything smaller than 100m was nearly invisible to long range scans. These types of probes would be used to fill that gap.

Harry was now living with him full time, as he decided that he was done with the pretense of living at the Dursleys. After the events of last year, it was more than obvious that Harry had not had a normal upbringing, and by leaving that place his son now had the entire summer for learning. It wasn't like the Dursleys would miss him anyway.

* * *

Albus was fighting the urge to chuckle, looking over the politics section of the Prophet. The Muggleborn equitable income bill, as it was called, would have made it so Muggleborn students would have to pay more for their schooling, reducing the subsidies provided by those purebloods with students of their own through their taxes. Unfortunately for its designers, it would also need to increase the taxes on those families without children attending Hogwarts to offset the deficit, which was part of why it had failed so spectacularly.

Lucius Malfoy thought that he was the epitome of a cunning politician, but to someone with nearly a hundred years of experience in the political realm he was but a newborn whelp. His attempts to pass through laws like this were completely transparent, even if he hadn't been the one to propose them personally.

Another reason that the law failed was the increased awareness of student well-being. Many thought that increasing the costs would make it harder for young wizards at witches, muggleborn or not, to defend themselves, or worse, go without training and thus risk exposing their world. The dangerous events that had transpired the past year had lit the proverbial fire under thousands of witches and wizards across Britain in this regard.

Hogwarts had fielded more than a few howlers after the troll fiasco, but that had been _nothing_ compared to when the public learned a professor had been possessed. They had _demanded_ something to be done about the safety of the students, and he was not above using this to his advantage.

Though the danger that _his_ students had been in from the possession of Quirinus made him incredibly angry, he was not foolish enough to ignore the opportunity that the event had given him. He had been trying for _decades_ for the Board of Governors to provide funds for a renewing of the wards, but they had not seen the need before now, given their belief in the superiority of anything the founders had created.

This worship that Magical Britain had for the founders was more than a little irritating to Albus.

Though runes were incredibly long lasting in comparison to other sources of magic, they could only last so long without being tied into some external power source. And contrary to popular belief, the school was _not_ located on a magical nexus of power, but instead used the expenditure of magic by the students to help maintain the wards. The makers of the wards were only human, so their work was not perfectly efficient. Add to that the decreasing numbers of students caused by the war with Voldemort and the wards were at their weakest strength in centuries.

The possession had been more than enough motivation for even Lucius to agree to pay for an extensive set of upgrades. Say what you wanted about that man, but he took the safety of his family seriously, though he was likely to balk at the list of wards that Dumbledore had chosen to be renewed.

Dumbledore frowned as his eyes caught the lone instrument on his desk that was not making a single movement. He had done this ever since it had stopped working just a few days after the start of the summer break.

Wards were tricky things, but Blood wards were even more so. They depended on there being at least some kind of family bond between the inhabitants of the area warded, the stronger the better.

He had known that sending Harry Potter to the Dursleys would not be the best life, but it was far better an option than having the boy as a ward of the Ministry, where all the pureblood families would have been in a frenzy to claim him for his eventual political power, or for revenge..

He had thought that those wards would be fed by the presence of those considered Harry's family. And yet the wards had fallen from Privet drive three weeks ago, without a single trace of where Harry had gone. It pained him to think that there had been so little love that the wards would collapse solely by his intent on leaving for good.

Where Harry was living now was a mystery, though given what the boy had done last Halloween, he knew that it was unlikely his guardian was a muggle, so somewhere in the wizarding world under heavy wards was most likely.

His worry over what Harry had learned from this man had only increased after he had been able to detect his mental probe and tear it apart so easily. Granted, he had not put much power into the probe, but a student should not have been able to detect it with such ease, let alone destroy it in such a violent manner.

He _needed_ to know what the boy was learning, and who he was learning it from, but did not know how to approach the boy without making him more suspicious than he already was.

The reports from other teachers on Mr. Potter had shown that he was an incredibly observant child, but somewhat distant from his peers. He had been thawing to the presence of the other students over the course of the year, which implied that he had been isolated from other children before coming to Hogwarts. Why had this mysterious guardian isolated him, and where had he been during that time that limited his interaction with his peers?

Harry's desire to socialize was a good sign, Tom Riddle had not done the same until he was absolutely sure of his power and ability, near the end of his fourth year. It was sad that he kept comparing Harry to Tom, but given their positions within the prophecy he felt like he had no choice. If Harry should fall to the dark, then there was little hope for Wizarding Britain, let alone the rest of the world.

* * *

August 5th

Harry's summer was not exactly structured, mostly fluctuating between working on his mental exercises, Lantean engineering and design with Moros, and working over all of the spells that he had used the previous year in an attempt to reproduce them without a wand. Conventional wizard wisdom said that it was impossible to achieve any appreciable sort of results without a wand, but he believed that using his telekinesis without any kind of focus showed how wrong they were. In truth, it was a mix of both.

Some spells such as the levitation charm were easy to adapt with his previous experience in telekinesis. Others were surprisingly difficult, such as the light charm lumos. Without a magical conductor, he was forced to use the trace gases in the air air just above his palms as the medium for the light, which required a large amount of concentration and energy for a light barely brighter than a candle. According to Moros, the energy expenditure and strain would lessen with practice, as he gained greater control.

Transfiguration was utterly beyond him without a wand, which was frustrating given the sheer utility such a skill could have, literally reshaping the environment around you to your advantage. It reminded him greatly of the stories Moros told him of the T10 Telekinetics, who could literally take the materials from their environment and reshape them to suit their needs. Was using a focus such as a wand really capable of bypassing centuries of training? If so, he wondered if it would be possible to create a non magical focus that would allow him to do the same.

Though training took up most of his hours, he was not averse to spending some of his time outside of the Tor as well, usually walking around Diagon Alley and enjoying the pleasant atmosphere. His birthday had been the only day he had really taken off, instead looking through the shops within Diagon and eating Florean Fortescue's ice cream.

His first trip to the Potter family vault this summer had been particularly memorable , now that it was accessible to him after his first year of schooling.

If he had thought that Moros' vault was amazing, the Potter vaults completely outstripped it in terms of magical knowledge and artifacts, which was not that surprising once he got over his shock at the sight.

The vault doors were decorated with a detailed etching of the Potter crest, a dormant gryffin on a bed of grass on the top left with a riverside cottage and mill on the bottom right. Later research into the family journals shown that his family was well known for their strength as craftsmen and innovators, which usually translated to a great talent for transfiguration and enchantment within their line, and by extension, warding.

They were not members of the upper echelons in wizarding culture until fairly recently, but their skill and talent in the centuries before that time made sure that few families would risk their wrath by attacking them, as the sleeping gryffin symbolized.

Originally, when Harry had learned of the existing of enchanting, he had heard that only the goblins were well known for their abilities in the art. While this was true to an extent (the goblins' work with metals was nearly unmatched except by a few magical shinobi clans in Japan), the Potter family had only stopped being known for their ability with organic materials during the past few centuries, which had been filled with constant conflicts in the Wizarding world.

It was a disturbing thought that nearly every well known European dictator or revolutionary during the past two centuries was mirrored by another magical dark lord or lady either acting behind the scenes or with said muggles. He was unsure about the other continents, but would be willing to bet that the pattern was similar there too.

Still, the knowledge within the vaults was priceless. The possible applications for metallurgy alone were near infinite! He had seen an runic array, that if properly created, would literally absorb the energy off any fire magics lower than fiend-fire, then use that energy to reinforce the array while releasing excess energy back into the air as heat. If this could be changed into a form that distributed the excess heat equally across a surface, then the vast majority of the Wraith plasma weapons would be nearly useless, as lantean metal-ceramic composites were known for their energy dampening capabilities even without these improvements.

And that was only one array. Harry (and by extension Moros) had access to _hundreds_ of journals left behind by his family members through the ages, which were all being digitized by a probe left within the Potter vaults that was specially shielded against any magical interference.

To say that Moros was excited was a _massive_ understatement. Before they had access to the vault they were relying on books with basic knowledge, but family magics were typically much more advanced or specialized than what was publically available. It was one of the reasons that the purebloods thought themselves better than all others; having hundreds of years of knowledge that was inaccessible to anyone else was a great source of pride for them.

And because of that pride, being the last of his house meant that there were certain exceptions in the law when it came to inheriting family vaults, namely that as the last member of his line, he had full access to the books and artifacts within the vaults while given a modest stipend for his own use, in addition to the money in his trust vault.

The goblins were more than happy to unfreeze the Potter accounts, time was money after all, and the ten years the vaults had been frozen prevented any sort of investment with the Potter monies, and by extension, compensation for the goblins doing the investing.

All the knowledge they had found in them made Harry wonder what kind of knowledge there could be in other family vaults, esoteric spells and specialized tools?

Maybe it was from being exposed to Hermione's constant rants on the subject, but the thought of so much magical knowledge hidden away was grating to him after all the knowledge he had from his ancestors. However given the semi-feudal nature of Wizarding Britain, it did make sense. Why give your enemies access to information that could let them around your defenses? Or profit from the work and effort of your ancestors?

* * *

August 19th

10:47 AM

Diagon Alley

Harry had come to Diagon Alley alone this time, knowing that his mentor was still having a field day over the various artifacts that had been in the Potter family vault. The man was a true scientist, despite what his past in politics would have him believe.

Still, he needed to purchase his school books and supplies for the year, and did so under the guise of a dirty blond young man with brown eyes who looked more fifteen than his twelve. The hologram was incredibly sophisticated, even giving the illusion of sweat under the sweltering August sun.

The supply run was fairly fast given the early time he arrived, so he took a small break for some ice cream while crowd watching. The holographic technology worked its wonders, and not a single patron of the parlor noticed anything odd about him. From what he had read on glamours, they sometimes had trouble when the disguised person was trying to eat, as the image would distort the view of the food. It was an interesting little tidbit that hinted at the bending of light being the source of the illusion, but without further testing he would not know for sure.

The alley was bustling as always, though he did notice there was an unusual congregation of people around Flourish and Blotts. Looking closer he could see there was some kind of book signing going on featuring a flashy looking blond man with perfect teeth. Banners depicted his name as Gilderoy Lockhart hanged from nearly every surface, and the number of witches surrounding the man in adoration made Harry's nose wrinkle in disgust.

"Hello Witches and Wizards of Diagon Alley! I am here to sign copies of my autobiography, Magical Me, before I take a year-long journey in search of the mystical Japanese demons known as the Yokai! I will be here all day witches and wizards, so please be patient and stay in line, there is enough of me for everyone!"

The cheesy smile that accompanied that self absorbed statement made him resist the urge to snort with all his might. What a moron. And what was even worse was that the majority of witches around that moron were only more adoring with those words.

Shaking his head, he weaved his way through the throngs of people outside to get into the shop, occasionally having to push his way through. A sigh of relief escaped him as he left the sweltering throng of bodies and into the magically cooled shop, already looking for his textbooks so that he could leave this madhouse as soon as possible.

He had already purchased all the standard spellbooks in his first year,so he decided to focus to finding books that were on more specialized subjects such as healing and conjuration. Even if he didn't understand the theory yet, the materials would at least give Moros else something to work on if he got bored of the Potter family journals (Not likely) and something for Harry himself to read for clarification.

To complement those books, he picked several dry looking tomes on the theory of magic itself, along with potion creation and theory, things that would later be useful. With a check to both sides of the aisle, he shifted his image to appear twenty years older, not wanting questions about the advanced material.

A smooth drawling voice interrupted the relative quiet of the shop, and he peeked his head out of the aisle to see a tall blond man several aisles away standing behind Draco Malfoy who could only be his father. Facing him were several members of the Weasley family, including a young girl that he did not remember seeing before at Hogwarts. A quick glance confirmed that she was carrying a number of the standard books for first years, though they all looked rather shabby.

A man with similar features to those of the Weasley boys appeared, and though he wasn't actively listening , he knew that the elder Malfoy had said something provocative, as the Weasley Patriarch's face turned bright red with anger. Harry blinked and suddenly the two men were in a fist fight. He rolled his eyes and went back into his search. Some adults were no better than children themselves.

* * *

Hogwarts August 24th

Headmaster's Office

Any earlier triumph that he felt with his victory over Lucius' bill was crumbled into ash in his mouth when he received the missive from the Ministry. He had been working on bringing Remus Lupin in for the position of Defense against the Dark Arts, but the Minister had seen fit to interfere with the proceedings of Hogwarts for the same reasons that he himself had used to run roughshod over the Board of Governors, the danger that the students had been in over the last term.

The minister, in his _infinite wisdom_ , had decided that _he_ would be the one to appoint a _ministry approved_ teacher for the term, given the long string of defense against the dark arts teachers that had only lasted for at most a year. The sheer number of defense professors that Hogwarts went through meant that very few people would be willing to actually apply for the position, even though there had not been any proof over the existence of the curse.

So, for this year at least, Hogwarts would pay host to one Auror Dawlish, a slightly above average level wizard at best from what he remembered, but one that Dumbledore knew had very high loyalty to the ministry. He hoped that the damage inflicted on the education of his students wouldn't be too bad, but all he could do was work on courting a number of defense professors for the next year with what little free time his position afforded him.

Still, the ministry's interference was a worrying precedent. He would need to find a way to prevent this from happening again, with any other position that the ministry deemed to be taught incorrectly, otherwise Hogwarts would no longer become a place of learning but a mouthpiece for the asinine propaganda the ministry was so fond of spewing.

That wasn't to say he was completely against the Ministry, but he felt that by and large it only existed to promote the well-being of the purebloods to the detriment of everyone else. And any attempts he made to improve the situation of half-bloods and muggleborns was deadlocked in the Wizengamot before they could get anywhere.

He grumbled to himself, stopping only when his ever faithful Fawkes trilled a soothing melody.

"We'll have to see how this year goes Fawkes, but I fear for the education of the children if the Ministry continues to interfere."

His companion gave another soothing trill, as if saying. "It will be alright, you'll see."

"I hope so Fawkes, I really do."

* * *

Glastonbury Tor

August 29th

After the design of the construction drones was complete, Harry decided that the next logical step was to search for some design of probes for his return to hogwarts.

He spent much of his time in the school working on consuming as much magical theory as he could, along with maintaining his physical training in the mornings.

The grounds and floors of the school were so extensive that it would be nearly impossible to explore an appreciable amount of it with the little time that he had free. The Lanteans had understood the concept of unmanned probes since the beginning of their existence, and the basic probe itself had been unchanged for nearly a million years, given the level of advancement they had reached.

Unlike the drones, the probe design was a sphere, also lacking the outer bands for transporters. Instead, the device was only the size of his head, and had the ability to literally phase out of existence, meaning that it could theoretically pass through any obstacle that the castle had to offer, though given the strange nature of magic he was uncertain of how true that was.

Their experiments into the nature of magic had also given them a limited understanding of the causes of the interference that had plagued the original version of his band, meaning that even the upgraded band made last Christmas was obsolete in terms of scanning range. This was still being rectified, as Moros learned more every day through his study of the Potter Journals.

Hogwarts, A History had hinted at a number of hidden rooms within the castle. Many of which had been confirmed to exist by the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff, though she had not been forthcoming on their locations.

He wanted to be the one to find those rooms, if only to have them for his own use.

It wasn't that he minded having his friends around, but he was finding the morning exercises did not give him all the time that he wanted to work on his abilities. Without having much practice time over the school year, he had noticed that his control had barely improved, and this was completely unacceptable.

The wizarding news had been somewhat encouraging. He was glad to learn that the situation that had occurred last year with Quirrell was something that the wizards were taking seriously, though the part of having a ministry approved teacher for the Defense position at Hogwarts did not seem like a good thing to him from what little he knew of the ministry itself.

He had also found that there had been many attempts to have Severus Snape removed as a professor at Hogwarts, but given the lack in Britain of potions masters that was a requirement of the position, there was no other choice than to possibly hire from abroad. Unfortunately, xenophobia was a very real thing in this community, which meant it was unlikely that foreign professors would be accepted by the majority of the Board of governors or the parents of Hogwarts students.

It didn't help that one of said Governors, Lucius Malfoy, was a friend of the dour potions master.

As it was, Harry decided that he would need to bear the man's classes and continue to study the subject on his own during the term.

* * *

Ginny had been waiting for this day for years, ever since the first time she had heard the stories of Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, she had wanted to meet him for real, and now she was going to Hogwarts, the last of the Weasley children. She was so excited!

Her hand strayed to her threadbare bookbag, wherein resided the diary that she somehow found in her cauldron that day in Diagon Alley. Her dad had once told her not to trust anything whose mind you could not see, but Tom was such a nice person, listening to her woes without complaint and offering his advice to her. She didn't want to give him up, the one person who was focused on her and no one else. Not even her mother paid that much attention to her other than to criticize whatever she did but Tom was everything that her family wasn't, and she loved it.

At first she had thought to tell her father about it, but realized she was being silly as soon as she looked at it. It was probably a charmed journal that someone dropped anyway, nothing dangerous about it.

No, she could not wait to bring Tom with her to Hogwarts, to tell him how much it had changed since he had been a student, and about all the friends that she was going to make there without her brothers hovering over her all the time. For the first time in her life, she would be free to make her own decisions, she wasn't going to waste that.

* * *

September 1st

Hogwarts Express

Harry nearly bounced in place, eager to start the new year. He hadn't really thought that he would be capable of missing his friends this much, but surprisingly having them as a constant in his school life made their absence especially prevalent during the summer.

It wasn't like he was completely alone during said summer, but most of his time was spent on developing his studies. There was no one around his age, so it was especially nice to see Neville and Hermione again after spending the summer apart. Despite Hermione's interest, there had been no opportunity for them to gather in Longbottom Manor during the summer, and there was no way that Harry was trusting his new friends with the secret of the Tor, so they instead sent him letters, Hermione to a post box in Bristol and Neville through a series of different owls all bearing the sigil of House Longbottom.

The series of articles from the Daily Prophet printed toward the end of the summer had only emphasized his disquiet over the ministry's interference in Hogwarts. If he hadn't known before that the Prophet was basically a Ministry mouthpiece, he would have been able to do so simply from the outrageous amount of slant they put in some of the articles.

At the beginning of the summer, the pieces had been fairly tame, but as the break continued on they became more and more critical of the decisions that Albus Dumbledore had made for teachers who never lasted more than a year while simultaneously praising the Minister for his 'Devotion to the protection of our youth'.

It looked like he would just have to deal with the ministry-placed teacher like he had with Quirrell, keep his head down and learn as much as he could on the side of the class. The articles had hinted at the existence of a ministry approved course for the students after all, and what else could a government enforced course be but restrictive?

Having requirements for the level of education was one thing, but actively dictating exactly what students could and could not learn made him only more distrustful of the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

Great Hall

Hogwarts

Albus's lips turned up in a smile as the upper students filed into the Great Hall where all of the professors were already sitting. How he had missed the sound of chattering students. It was funny; every year he knew that the students would return to their homes over the break, but he still felt disappointed when it happened, when that constant background noise disappeared.

He hid a scowl behind a twinkling facade as his eyes fell on the man now _assigned_ to the position of defense against the dark arts. As Hogwarts had been established long before the Ministry of Magic, there had never been any clause about restrictions that the government had over what the school taught. Generally the Ministry had respected Hogwarts as a separate entity throughout its history, with only a few exceptions. It looked like this was one of those exceptions, and he was certainly taking exception to that!

Having interacted with Auror Dawlish over the past few weeks, he had to lower his original evaluation of the man. To put it bluntly, he was a social imbecile. Sure, he had several O's on his NEWTs, but he was quick to anger and had no prior teaching experience at all. The ministry expected this man to be able to control classes of immature students?

They were going to eat him alive.

* * *

Great Hall

September 5th

The table was fairly empty this early in the morning, only a few of the Gryffindors populated their table, though the Ravenclaws seemed to have nearly half, some of them frantically going over summer homework that they never finished. There went that stereotype.

He turned as he caught sight of yellow and black, seeing Ernie and Wayne coming in, Wayne rubbing at his eye sleepily.

"Hey Ernie, Wayne, how was your summer?" Harry asked somewhat awkwardly. He had made a promise to himself to try and interact better with his housemates, which he had mostly tended to ignore in favor of his two friends in Gryffindor. Ernie not as much, but Wayne and Justin didn't really like Hermione, and had stayed far away from their group study last year.

"Very good, thanks for asking!" Ernie was the first to respond, unfailingly polite. Harry gestured to the seat next to him and the boy brightened visibly before accepting the invitation.

Wayne shrugged even as he sat on Ernie's other side. "Same old really, just staying home and working on summer homework, Snape's essays were evil!"

Harry didn't comment, though having access to a number of reference texts that had been digitized greatly reduced the time it took for him to research. He couldn't imagine having to search through all the books manually to find the relevant information, especially when the majority of the books he had available were _very_ unorganized journals from his ancestors.

"I had more trouble with Transfiguration to be honest." He offered, and Ernie made a face in commiseration. Professor McGonagall was not quite as strict as Snape, but she expected the best from her students, something reflected in the (relative) difficulty of her assignments.

Justin took that time to come to the table, a grumpy look on his face. " 'Lo all." He grunted, sitting next to Wayne while Ernie remained on Harry's side.

Harry's eyebrow rose without his permission. "You alright Justin?"

"My 'rents weren't exactly happy about me going back to Hogwarts this year." He said, and below the words Harry could sense the frustration that the boy was feeling at the past conversation.

"Because of Quirrell?" He asked sympathetically.

Justin sighed. "Well that and they feel like 'magic school is not something that will give me a way to support myself and my family.' That is a direct quote from them by the way."

Harry nodded, knowing that Justin's parents were wealthy executives in a financial firm and as such expected their son to follow in their footsteps. Moros expected Harry to follow in his footsteps as well, but somehow managed to teach him in a way that did not feel like he was being forced into something he didn't want to do. Just imagining what he could create with Lantean technology was enough drive on its own.

"Well if it isn't my favorite group of f-second years!" A familiar voice called out to them.

"Hey John." Harry gave a half wave at the exuberant fifth year, who smiled brightly and sat down near them.

"You've all heard the news about our new Professor?" He asked, nodding toward the frowning man wearing a brown jacket at the head table.

Harry nodded grimly. "Not exactly happy with it, I thought there was some kind of law against having a government worker teaching?"

John shook his head. "Nah, that's your muggle upbringing showing again. It's completely legal, just not considered a good thing to do cause the teacher might be in a feud with the family of some of the students and then have access to them. But this guy doesn't have any problems with any families, so he is allowed."

Harry shook his head, taking a glance at their new teacher out of the corner of his eye. Somehow he just didn't think that this year's defense class was going to do him any good. At least he had his Family library for information, but not all of the students here had that kind of luxury.

* * *

September 8th

Defense

Having read the book chosen for this class, Harry was not exactly thrilled about what they would be learning. In a word, the text was...dry. Heavy theory on the aspects of defense with little practical information. Having received Dawlish's syllabus for the year only reinforced that when he saw little information on actually performing defensive spells.

The Auror (Harry hesitated to call him a professor after finding no such credentials on him with his research) walked into the classroom just as the bell rang, a thick sheaf of loose-leaf parchment held tightly in his hands as though afraid he would lose it otherwise.

"Good morning." He grunted, slamming the sheaf on his desk. The low background mutters silenced abruptly at the sound. Dawlish took a slow glance around the room, catching the students' eyes before clearing his throat loudly.

"I am going to be blunt with you. Given the events of last year, the Ministry is unsure of exactly how safe this school is for all of you, and they want to have someone they know they can trust watching over your safety. I will be doing this while also teaching you the dangers that magic has to offer, and how to get yourselves out of dangerous situations that you are not trained to handle." The idea that Dawlish was, in fact, trained to handle such things was not stated, but obvious nonetheless.

"Later in the year we will be covering some of the magical creatures that can be threatening to young witches and wizards, and how to counter them. I do not expect you to be perfect, but I demand that you give me your attention and your respect while I am teaching you."

His eyes narrowed at a quiet snigger from several seats behind Harry. "I will begin the lesson with a roll call every time. Lateness will not be tolerated in my class, am I understood?"

He seemed satisfied with the vague noises of assent given back and took out a sheaf of parchment and quill. "Hannah Abbot!"

* * *

Ben Nevis, Scotland

September 15th

5:00 AM

Moros took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, his eyes closed. Though his son may think otherwise, he hadn't spent all of his time since he descended holed up in Glastonbury Tor. Few of his people had ever really appreciated nature like he did, preferring their sterile environments with only those plants and animals they did not feel remotely threatened by. Farming was largely unnessary when you could literally materialize any food you wanted with energy, so the majority of Lanteans preferred to keep their hands and bodies away from any sort of filth. But not him.

He loved this, reaching out with his telepathy and brushing against the minds of the animals and insects around him, their energy, primal feelings of fear, hunger, and triumph coming so quickly it was near impossible to tell them apart. Moros let out a deep breath at the heady feeling.

Unfortunately, he wasn't here solely for pleasure. With a sigh, he opened his eyes, knowing that he had only half an hour or so before the more adventurous hikers began arriving.

His eyes turned to the small spherical probe sitting on the grass, allowing pride in his student to cross his face.

Harry had done a wonderful job, finishing up the design while working on his own magical studies. The probe was simple, but incredibly tough, made of an interlocking frame that distributed any kinetic impacts with equal force across its shell, which then directed the energy from that impact to the shields. Harry had used a trio of small potentia, the same kind that resided in his wristband, which powered the shield, gravity generator, and sensors. Typically such probes only needed one power source, but Harry had insisted on using three, preferring redundancy to efficiency. A miniaturized hyperdrive gave it a relativistic speed of a light year per second, nothing compared to their most powerful explorer ships, but quite impressive for such a small object. Finally, it possessed a powerful cloaking field that little short of a coronal mass ejection could interfere with, and even then it would reestablish itself once such an event passed.

As the device moved through manipulation of gravity, there was no need for ionic propulsion, though Harry had added a series of ionic emitters anyway, claiming that gravity alone did not give appreciable acceleration. Moros rolled his eyes. Harry was obsessed with the idea of redundancy. Though perhaps, had his people thought the same way, the Wraith War would have ended differently.

With a thought directed toward the probe it visibly powered up, a low whine coming from the six glowing purple thrusters. It stood still for a moment, before phasing out of reality an instant before taking off. Had it done otherwise the sheer acceleration would have created a series of devastating shockwaves as it broke through the sound barrier.

In less than a minute, the incredibly advanced probe reached high orbit. It sensor suite powered up, and began scanning the Earth and everything within ten light minutes of it.

Moros beamed himself away from the mountaintop and back to Glastonbury, wanting to test the probe's effectiveness.

* * *

October 31st, after the feast

Harry was walking back to the common room with the rest of his house as he noticed a great number of students gathered around one of the walls. There were a number of gasps and whispers made by the students closest to the wall, and he slipped through the crowd as best he could, jumping through the spaces between students as fast as he could.

Though slightly taller than average, there were so many students that it was only when he was near the front of the crowds that he could see the words written in what looked like blood.

 **THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED! ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE!**

Looking at the panicked faces of the students around him, somehow Harry didn't think this was going to a peaceful year either.

* * *

Saturday, November 7th 1992

When he came down the stairs, Harry was surprised to see a number of hufflepuffs crowded around the notice board, chattering excitedly. He quirked an eyebrow in interest, walking around the group to try and get a good look.

 **Dueling Club is once again open for students years 2nd and up to join, meetings will be every Saturday evening after dinner in the Great Hall. There will be a meeting today for those students wanting to learn more about the club after the evening meal.**

 **I hope to see you there**

 **Filius Flitwick**

There was a long piece of parchment attached to the notice, filled with hastily scribbled names. Harry impatiently waited his turn in the line before signing up, curious as to how wizard combat compared to the hand to hand Moros had been teaching him for years, and how he had not noticed the piece of parchment last year.

He also rather cynically wondered if so many students were signing up because they were interested in dueling or because they were afraid of the Chamber of secrets and whatever it might hold.

Dinner was an incredibly long affair for someone waiting for what came after it. Harry was unable to restrain himself from tapping his foot in impatience, getting an unseen smile from Cedric, who he had grown to see as something like a combination of a friend and older brother.

When at last the meal was over, Flitwick tapped his fork across his goblet, a clear ringing sound traveling through the hall.

"If I may have your attention please!"

Given how well liked the tiny professor was, it wasn't much of a surprise at how quickly the hall grew quiet.

"Thank you. Now, as I'm sure most of you already know, the dueling club has been resurrected with the permission of the Headmaster, and will soon have its first meeting. I just want to go over a few rules for those of you participating."

You will be judged upon your skill so that we may partner you with someone of equal skill. If they are older or younger than you, it does not matter, only skill does in this club.

There will be no spells sent at one another in hostile intent, if needs must we will check wands for any proscribed spells you may desire to send at others.

Inter-family conflicts should be reported to me or ..Professor Dawlish, so that we know not to partner you with a student from an opposing family

And finally, have fun!

"Now, everyone, please vacate the house tables."

Aside from a few students that grumbled at no longer being able to stuff their faces, the tables were quickly made bare. Headmaster Dumbledore swished his wand once and the four long tables seemed to melt into the floor, leaving smooth stone inscribed with a number of white circles, each about 10 meters in radius. Abruptly Harry realized that the room seemed even larger than before, and that there was plenty of room between circles even with the large number of students in the club.

"Now, if any students with inter family conflicts could come to me, everyone else, please find a partner in your year for now. I and the other supervisors will be passing around a temporary barrier stone that will prevent outside spellfire from entering your duels, with the exception of me or any member of the staff currently supervising this club."

Harry looked around, seeing a number of students looking in his direction. With a hidden grimace, he looked around for someone he could partner with that wouldn't be overly hysterical at partnering with the boy-who-lived. By his ancestors he hated that title!

"You want a partner Harry?" Justin's voice came from behind him.

Harry sighed in relief before nodding. Justin was a safe choice.

Professor Sinastra passed him a faintly glowing river stone inscribed with a trio of runes. From his limited studies on norse runes, he understood two of them, protection and identity, though how they related to what looked to be a god-rune he had no idea.

After a quick inspection he noticed a small circular indentation sat in the center of each dueling circle. With a mental shrug, he placed the rune-carved stone into the groove.

A wall of light seemed to emanate from the edge of their dueling circle, Harry touched it and felt a brief tingle before his hand passed through.

"Ah, good Mr. Potter, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, can you please get into a stance?"

Harry thought for a moment, looking at Justin before standing light on his feet, legs slightly spread with left in front of right. Spells travelled quickly, and as such agility was more important than strength in this case.

Flitwick's eyebrow rose at a clearly muggle fighting stance. Harry seemed comfortable with it though, so he turned his attention to Justin, guiding him toward a standard dueling stance, neutral and meant for quick sidestepping to avoid spells.

Flitwick stepped outside of the circle. "Now you two, begin with the spell Expelliarmus, the disarming charm you should have just learned in defense class." There was a strange intonation on the words, as if Flitwick didn't believe they had been taught properly.

Harry nodded, gently grasping his poisonwood wand and looking toward Justin.

"Begin!" Flitwick exclaimed.

Harry whipped his wand forward, a bright bolt of red light leaving his wand and knocking the wand from Justin's fingers before he could attempt to move. "Expelliarmus!"

Flitwick blinked at the speed of the attack. "Mr. Potter, perhaps you should focus on the dodging aspect of dueling until we find you another partner." He quickly moved to intercept another pair of students that looked like they were having trouble.

Justin looked down in shame, and Harry felt a tinge of anger before he realized Flitwick's words had been meant without any ill intent. "Sorry Justin."

"S'alright Harry, did you take MMA or something as a kid?"

"MMA?"

"Mixed martial arts."

"Ah, I guess you could call it that, my teacher had his own style he taught to-"

Harry dodged to the right as a flash of red passed two inches to the left of where he had been standing. "Well that was kinda dirty, distracting…" here he took a short hop to the left to dodge the next bolt "me like that."

Justin looked at him incredulously as both spells were dodged easily. "What are you, a black belt?"

Harry shook his head. To Moros he was but a beginner in the style. Then again, the Lanteans were more physiologically advanced than baseline humanity, and were kept in shape through their technology their entire lives, so his reaction speed was much faster than a beginner in martial arts meant for baseline humans.

Justin showed a noticeable amount of improvement over the next five minutes, though he was also tiring rapidly.

Harry also noticed that he was able to feel the energy of the spells as they grew close enough, much like how he felt when Moros first began his training in telekinesis by forcing him to divert the stones. For a moment, he wondered it if would be possible to do the same with spells.

He also kept his wand sheathed in its holster while dodging, not wanting it to be damaged.

"Potter! Stop dancing around like a buffoon!"

Justin froze after he fired off his last spell that Harry dodged by leaning to the side. Had the barrier not been up, Snape would have been hit in the forehead with the bolt of red energy.

"Sorry Professor, but Professor Flitwick told me to work on my dodging skills while he got me another partner." Harry answered neutrally.

"That can be arranged, Mr. Potter." Snape coolly replied. "Flint, come over here."

 _The Seventh year?_ Harry thought. Quite a jump in opponents.

Flint was a large boy, thick shouldered and strong. However his heavy steps betrayed his lack of training in any formal martial art, and with his size and lack of agility Harry would bet he was a fighter that shielded more than he moved. Though he was fairly fit. If he remembered correctly the boy was on the Slytherin Quidditch team, so he could be faster than what he was expecting.

Justin looked between Flint and Harry before he gulped audibly. "Sorry Harry, but better you than me…"

Harry couldn't suppress a snort, even with the malice written all over Flint's face. If worst came to worst he could likely throw Flint around like a ragdoll, though he would rather not expose his abilities like that.

Flint stepped into the circle that Justin had vacated, his eyes looking over Harry's defensive stance dismissively. Harry's eyebrow rose. The boy wasn't going to take him at least a little bit seriously? His loss.

At some unseen signal, Flint snapped his wand forward, firing off a stream of boiling water at Harry, who as soon as he saw the older boy twitch had darted to the side, firing off the disarming charm.

Flint abandoned his more aggressive form of aguamenti for a shield charm that deflected the spell into the barrier, then snapping his wand forward in what looked like some kind of dangerous spell.

Harry dodged again, feeling the energy pass him as he fired back, a disarmer followed by two overpowered tickling hexes and a charm that polished floors right after them, aimed low.

Flint's shield shuddered against the first two spells, and he dodged the third as it flew into the barrier behind him. The fourth hit the floor, which made Flint sneer derisively.

Harry threw another series of spells, mostly prank spells he had found in a book from Flourish and Blotts. He aimed heavily toward the left of Flint, attempting to make him step on the patch of highly waxed stone. More polishing spells were sent around Flint as well, at some point he shouldn't be able to dodge without landing flat on his face.

Flitwick appeared on the outside of the barrier, looking rather uncomfortable with Harry fighting a student five years older than him, but that went away once he realized what his young student was trying to do. His eyes gleamed in excitement then, as by nature his dueling was quite similar, using his opponent's movements against them.

Unfortunately for Harry though, Flint was not moving at all, only exerting a little effort to dodge while shielding against the majority of his spells. To Harry's frustration, Flint was relying on a rose-tinted shield that deflected his spells with barely any effort. Though he didn't know it, many of the Pureblood students were whispering at the sight of one of the legendary Flint Family spells, the Aegis refractum. The only spells it was known to fail against were the unforgivable curses, and even then some battle records dictated that the shield had altered the path of those spells slightly before they were able to strike their target.

Flint, angered by his need for such a shield in the first place snarled out a "SERPENSORSIA!" as soon as Harry paused in his rapid casting, summoning a massive black mamba a few meters away from his opponent. Harry stilled at seeing the snake, hoping that his lack of movement would deter it from targeting him.

 _ **Stupid Humans, taking me from my nest!**_

Startled he could understand what it was saying, he jerked and the snake tensed, obviously preparing to leap. With a sharp gesture, he drew his wand forward and formed a wall of barely visible telekinetic energy just as the snake lunged, only to be hit by a vanishing spell from outside of the circle by a visibly irate Professor Flitwick.

"Mr. Flint! Get out of that circle this moment!" He demanded, and the Slytherin looked surly as he took a step, only to fall on his arse as he slipped on the waxed floor.

Harry's lips twitched at the undignified movement, somewhat appeased that his tactic had eventually been useful.

Flitwick glared at the Seventh year as he stood up. "Your choice of spells was unconscionable Mr. Flint, expect detention with me for the next month!" he growled, voice surprisingly deep compared to his normal range.

Flint moved away, and Flitwick glared after him a moment before looking back at Harry.

"Now then, Mr. Potter, since you have already shown yourself capable of dodging, I will pair you up with someone that will make it harder for you to do so, Miss Tonks is aspiring to be an Auror, so maybe you will give her a bit of a challenge." The half goblin said with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry nodded, surprised that the man was willing to partner him with another older student.

Tonks stepped into the circle, which flared white as she passed through it, her hair a deep indigo instead of her 'default' neon pink.

"Wotcher Harry, lets see what you've got for me." She said, her hair brightening into yellow for a moment before returning back to indigo.

Harry nodded, his wand held lightly in his hand while his body settled into a mobile stance. Professor Flitwick wouldn't have chosen her if she was an easy opponent, and if she wanted to get into the Aurors, she was more likely to drive herself to work hard at her dueling skills.

The only warning he had was her raising her wand, a blue spell that had he not moved would have hit him in the center of his chest. She didn't even say it aloud!

"Huh." She said, looking at him with some respect for his reaction speed before making a sweet smile.

On the outside of the circle Cedric paled as he saw her make _the_ smile, the one that said she was going to enjoy playing with you. It usually was focused on those idiots that thought of her as only a sex object, but for poor Harry to have it focused on him? He'd best start writing the obituary.

Harry felt a bit of worry as Tonk's body language turned distinctly predatory.

A trio of spells left her wand in quick succession, each tightly aimed so that he had little room to dodge. Harry focused, his mind and body trained by hours of dodging telekinetically thrown stones and saw the gaps between the spells, split seconds between them.

To all watching Harry seemed to blur, sidestepping the spells with relative ease. Tonks, though even more surprised, didn't falter, a look of concentration overtaking her features as she continued silent casting, a barrage of spells passing through her wand.

Harry didn't know how much time had passed, as his entire being was focused on dodging the onslaught. As Tonks' speed increased, so did his to a lesser degree, as he subconsciously used his telekinesis to move faster than should have been possible.

Flitwick's eyebrows rose further and further as the duel (though in all honesty it was more of a dodging session on Harry's part) continued past the five minute mark, and Ms. Tonks had yet to land a blow on the very agile Mr. Potter. Flitwick was distinctly reminded of some of the body enhancement magics he had seen, typically from eastern wizards who were more focused on that branch of magic than their western counterparts.

Harry was tiring, his body aching from moving at speeds it was not accustomed to, but he could see the same of his opponent, her speed was flagging as well as her accuracy, though she seemed to be making up for it with wider area variants of her spells. He did not want to lose, not after all this effort, so against his instincts he drew his wand and poured his magic into a shield, giving his weary body a moment to rest.

Tonks was not perturbed but the change in tactics, as the shield was a much larger target than the annoyingly agile Harry. Several shield breaking spells were sent, only to run into a strange orange barrier in front of the standard shield. She froze, how in Merlin's name could a second year pull off a dual layered shield like that?

That brief second gave Harry the moment he was waiting for, as he threw a multitude of polishing charms at the wooden floor around Tonks along with several disarming spells.

Tonks, cursing herself for losing the advantage, shielded, relieved that Harry's accuracy was at least normal for his age, though the sheer number of spells hitting the floor was rather strange, almost like….

Her eyes widened as a strange purple bolt flew from around Harry's wand, unlike any spell she had ever seen, and struck her shield, seemingly spreading all over its surface before caving in and shattering it. She tried to dodge to the right, only to slip on the nearly frictionless floor and land flat on her back, groaning. Harry's expelliarmus had no trouble hitting the disoriented Tonks, her wand clattering as it flew away from her and onto the floor.

Flitwick wasn't the only one who was gaping at the unexpected end to the duel, though he was the first to control himself. "Very well done Mr. Potter, excellent usage of dodging and strategy!"

Harry's face reddened as he realized the number of spectators that were staring at him. He had completely forgotten about his audience. He tried to ignore them as he walked over to Tonks, picking up her wand and handing it to her.

"Good duel." He said somewhat lamely, thinking that someone so competitive would not like losing, especially to someone so much younger than her. It almost felt like cheating using that Potter shield breaking spell.

Tonks stared at him thoughtfully before a small smile crossed her face. "Good duel Harry, maybe next time I won't go so easy on you."

Harry blinked, then nodded in acceptance, an answering smile growing on his face. "I'll look forward to it."

* * *

Harry's notoriety seemed to only increase after he defeated Tonks, who was known as one of the better duelers within the school. Though some (mostly those friends and acquaintances of Marcus Flint) dismissed his skill as equal, saying that he had barely fought at all, just dodged like a coward. Harry ignored them, detecting their jealousy even without needing to use his empathy.

Others were wondering aloud how Harry had become so good at dodging, how he had been trained and by who. Strangely, the only teacher to have asked him more about how he had been taught was Flitwick, who wanted to know if it was someone from the east. Harry had trouble hiding his amusement at the question, however much his habits and ability seemed to point to an eastern master, Moros wasn't even born on Earth.

Still, the increase in attention was not a good thing, especially with the recent attack against Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan of Gryffindor found by the flooded girls bathroom on the second floor.

Though no-one had said it to his face, he knew there were some students, especially in Gryffindor, that were wary of his ability and believed him to be heir of Slytherin.

Harry was just glad that no-one knew of his ability to speak parseltongue, having researched the topic after the duel with Flint. He would have been vilified at best.

* * *

January 10th

Flitwick stared at the parchment in front of him, almost unable to believe his eyes. A tricky little piece of charm work, placed on one of his ravens with their permission, took the words said around them and transcribed them to this linked parchment

After speaking to several of his second years, he had been more than suspicious of Severus' conduct when speaking to young Harry Potter. This had been further exacerbated when the man made an incredibly poor choice in terms of dueling partner for Harry, one that had quite the grudge against the second year if his spell choice was to be believed.

But this, this verbal assault was unforgivable, _especially_ when directed toward a student!

Flitwick seethed as the potions lesson continued. There was no way he was allowing Snape to get away with this any longer! He checked the clock, knowing that he would have to wait until after dinner to speak with Pomona. But when he did...he would have all the evidence needed to get Mr. Potter out of that man's class, even if he needed to pay for a potions tutor out of his own pocket!

As time was known to do, the next few hours passed incredibly slowly, even with the time spent teaching his classes. He wanted Lily's son out of the foul man's class immediately!

Though he tried to hide it, his students had looked at him strangely towards the end of the day, and he dismissed them five minutes early, knowing the Pomona should be finished with her classes by now.

Her office was located on the ground floor, close to the greenhouses and Hufflepuff common room. His fist was a nearly a blur as he banged it on her door, and he heard her footsteps just in time to wrench his fist away before she opened it.

"Filius, what is-"

He shook his head, throat tight in his anger, and handed her the sheet of parchment.

Her eyebrows furrowed as his behavior, but she took the parchment nonetheless.

A minute later and her lips were white from pressing them together. Though her hands were not forming into fists, he could see her fingers moving as if she longed to reach for Severus' throat. His acerbic manner of speech was more than enough to identify him as the one lambasting her badger.

"I warned Albus about that man, but this...this goes beyond the pale!" She muttered fiercely.

Her anger was nearly palatable in the air as an unseen breeze whispered around them.

"Filius, would you mind retrieving Snape, I will be escorting Mr. Potter to the headmaster to resolve this mess." She said after a deep breath through her nose.

Flitwick smiled a goblin smile. His teeth were naturally sharper than those of a pure human, and if she did not know him well, Sprout would have been greatly intimidated by the predatory expression.

"It will be my pleasure."

* * *

After dinner

Hall outside Headmaster's office

Harry was more than a little confused to have his head of house escorting him to the Headmaster, especially when he could feel the anger she was trying to suppress from before she retrieved him from the Hufflepuff common room.

He could tell the anger wasn't directed toward himself, but other than that he had no idea why he was being involved in this.

"Warheads." Sprout intoned toward the gargoyle, voice bland. Harry smothered an inappropriate snicker at her expression, though the raised eyebrow she gave him in return showed how successful he was.

He was intrigued when the gargoyle actually animated itself, standing and moving to the side with a grinding sound. How could solid stone move in such a way? Was it a series of joints hidden within the statute or some other method?

The stone escalator was a bit of a letdown after the animated gargoyle, but after knocking on the solid mahogany door to the headmaster's office, Harry was more than impressed.

He could barely resist the urge to turn his head around and explore. Dark teak bookshelves holding hundreds of thousands of books extended up to the high ceiling, and surreptitiously he had his band start scanning them for their information.

The room reminded him of an amphitheater with its curved walls, the headmaster's desk sat at the center of the room.

The desk was made of a rich mahogany, covered in various animated baubles and sheets of parchment. A few quills lay in their inkwells, and Harry forced his expression to remain neutral in when he saw the evaluating way the headmaster was looking at him.

"Ah, Pomona, how nice of you to visit, did you bring any of your delicious lemon tarts by any chance?" The headmaster greeted her.

Harry turned to look at his head of house in surprise. He didn't know she could cook.

Though she pinked a little at the compliment, Sprout shook her head. "I'm sorry to say this will not be a pleasant visit Albus, so I will simply get to the point. I know that you will not remove Severus as a professor, so I will ask that Mr. Potter here be allowed a private tutor for potions, as Severus' behavior is reminiscent of a man with a blood feud."

Dumbledore's twinkling expression turned grave. "Is that so?"

Several loud bangs sounded on the door. It opened before the headmaster could even say anything, revealing an irate professor Snape followed by a smug looking Flitwick carrying a piece of parchment.

Snape's expression darkened further at seeing Harry, but before he could say a thing Flitwick silenced him and strode over to the headmaster's desk to pass him the parchment.

"Albus, that is a transcript of one of Mr Potter's classes with Severus, taken with a listening charm placed on one of my ravens with their permission. I believe you will find it most disturbing."

As the headmaster frowned and began to read, Pomona kept her wand on the potions master, a dangerous light in her eye as if she dared him to go for his wand. Silenced, Snape sneered with his head high, fully believing himself to be in the right.

Once he finished the parchment, the headmaster turned to give the potions master the most soulful, disappointed look Harry had ever seen. You couldn't get a sadder expression if you stomped on puppies.

"Severus, I find myself most disappointed in your behaviour. I thought that you were mature enough to separate Mr. Potter from his father, but it seems I was gravely mistaken."

Snape reddened in impotent fury, especially at being humiliated like this in front of the student he wronged.

"As things are now, I have no choice but to remove Mr. Potter from all potions classes until we can find a suitable arrangement for him." He undid the silencing charm. "You are to have no further contact with Mr. Potter for the duration of his time at Hogwarts; is this understood? "

Snape looked to have swallowed a particularly nasty potion. "Perfectly Headmaster." He whirled around dramatically, every movement of his body betraying his fury.

"And Severus, be warned that this type of conduct will not be tolerated with any of your other students, not matter how useful you were to the war effort, i will not stand for this any longer."

Nodding sharply, the man left the headmaster's office quickly, leaving Harry to stare between the exit and the headmaster in befuddlement.

"Now Mr. Potter, first I would like to apologize for Severus' conduct, you should never have been treated in such a way in these halls."

Harry nodded, still a bit shocked at what had just happened. The headmaster had told off the one person he disliked the most at Hogwarts, in front of him, no less.

"I will need quite some time to find a new professor for you, but I believe that for now I can give you some self study assignments to tide you over for the rest of the year." Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling, and Harry nodded, a small smile on his face at not having to deal with the acerbic potions master any more. "Thank you headmaster."

"You are very welcome my boy." Dumbledore replied, hoping that this small good deed could help mend the damage caused by his blunder last year.

* * *

January 25th, 2013

Harry was woken by an urgent alarm within his mind.

With a low groan, he opened his eyes, already knowing that it was _very_ early in the morning. Why in the name of the ancestors had the probe woken him like this? He thought they had been programmed to do this only….

With a silent curse he jumped out of bed, changing into his school clothes as quietly and quickly as he could. One of the probes had detected a _massive_ bio-signature, likely reptilian, moving deep into the bowels of the school. Somehow they had failed to detect it coming up, but it had passed through several corridors...and…

Harry paled as he continued going through the data, simultaneously opening the door to his dorm. The probes had seen a body without any life signs on the ground, male, at least twenty five years of age. And another biosign, female, at most twelve years old, that had somehow managed to avoid being attacked even with her proximity. Was she controlling this thing?

Whatever this creature was, it had killed someone instead of petrifying them like before. What if it had been a student that was killed instead of an adult? Unbidden, Tonk's face appeared in his mind, eyes blank and unseeing. He tried to push it away, but other faces came to him, those of Cedric and John, Justin, Ernie, and Wayne, Hermione and Neville. Fear and anger warred within him. This creature could have killed one of his friends, killed any of the students in the school at any time, and it had only been luck that prevented their deaths before.

His anger churned and formed itself into determination. Whatever this creature was, it had to be removed for the safety of his friends, for the other students. He did not relish the idea of killing such a creature, but he did know of a way.

His band had been designed with a weapon for incapacitation, if all his other efforts failed. Moros had only added it after Harry had refused to leave the school over the Christmas break, and if he increased the power through the device to just below its maximum safe energy threshold (which was something around the energy released by a thousand severe thunderstorms), he could fire a stream of energy theoretically powerful enough to instantly scramble the neurons of whatever creature was attacking. At least he hoped so, magical creatures were often notorious for their resistance to spells and other forms of energy.

He cloaked, phasing for an instant to pass through the common room door. It was better than having Hufflepuff's portrait notice someone leaving the common room.

His probes showed that the body had been discovered by one of the patrolling teachers, and that there was a great amount of activity converging on that location. He trailed to the outside of the main corridors, following the path of the probe to a very strange stop, The second floor girl's bathroom.

Harry paused in disbelief, before his eyes narrowed and he moved into the flooded bathroom, a mid level application of telekinetic energy applied a barrier around his lower legs, keeping them dry as he went straight to one of the sinks that the massive biosign had disappeared into. There was a small carving of a snake under it, and again he froze, this time as the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Chamber of secrets

Slytherin's monster

A monster that could easily petrify, and now kill.

Snake

Slytherin's monster was a Basilisk!

Immediately Harry closed his eyes. Instead using the sensors to see around him. He did not know how such a beast was able to kill with only a look, but if he did not look into its eyes, then he was more likely to be safe.

Now how to get to it?….

Slytherin had made the chamber, so how could he have secured it against others entering it? A password of some kind?

The snake carving.

He opened his eyes and looked at the sink, concentrating on the likeness of a serpent, and spoke.

 _ **Open Up**_ **?**

The sink split apart, revealing the entrance into a dark mysterious hole at a dramatically slow pace. If it weren't for the situation at hand, he would have likely snorted at the cliché.

Harry, eyes once again closed used his telekinesis as a tool, creating thin streamers of energy that trailed from his fingertips and anchored him to the walls as he descended the slippery pipe. It took him a full five minutes to do so, but it was much more agreeable than simply sliding down the pipe with no idea of what was at the bottom.

The end of the pipe was filthy, covered in the skulls of long dead animals. His heart skipped a beat as the sensors showed his mind _massive_ folds of shed snakeskin. This Basilisk had to be at _least_ ten meters long, more likely closer to fifteen.

He stepped gingerly, wincing at the cracks of animal skulls beneath his feet as he made his way through the room.

A massive and elaborately carved door barred the way to the chamber, reliefs of snakes twined together with gemstones for eyes. Harry couldn't suppress a shiver at the optical illusion that made it seem as though they were staring at him.

There was no latch, so Harry did the next best thing, focusing on the snakes as he spoke again.

 _ **Open**_ **.**

The chamber itself was extensive, easily rivaling the Great Hall when it was used for the dueling club and then some. Corinthian pillars entwined with snakes led the way directly to a carving of a man's face at least twenty meters across, with wild hair and stern features that seemed to bore into his eyes.

But where was the Basilisk?

Harry directed the probe forward, though it had yet to find a trace of the biosign it had noticed before. It was almost like this chamber was shielded against the scans.

The probe beeped urgently as it flew closer to the carved face. Harry received a mental image of a cavern behind the carving, leading from its mouth. The Basilisk was curled up inside of that cavern.

Harry swallowed, still keeping his eyes closed. _**Come out Basilisk! I know you are here!**_

The beast behind the statue stirred. Harry tensed as the mouth of the carving slid open, from which a massive head came. The image was slightly distorted, as the level of magical saturation in the creature's skin was far higher than that of the chamber.

 _ **Another speaker?**_ The basilisk paused once fully out of the carving, seemingly peering at him.

Harry's band charged, arcs of electrical energy surrounding his right hand and arm like a halo, but not touching it. _**You have been harming the students of this school, and now have killed a man. I do not want to kill you, but if it means protecting my friends I will.**_

The snake seemed almost confused. _**I was following the bidding of master's young heir, he said that man was an invader here to harm the students under my care.**_

Harry's mind came to a screeching halt at the sheer honesty projected in that tone. The basilisk was here to _protect_ the students? What in the bloody hell was going on here?

The energy dissipated from his band, returning to the potentia as he left his arms relaxed at his sides, restraining the urge to cross them. _**If you are here to care for the students, then why have you been petrifying them?**_

The snake bobbed its head thoughtfully, making Harry wonder if Slytherin had given it lessons in human gestures before his death. _**Master's young heir said that the students were enemies. I didn't want to kill them, they are barely older than hatchlings, so I just made them sleep so others would leave, and master's heir would be happy.**_

Harry frowned. There was a student leading the basilisk against the school. At least, if the basilisk was telling the truth. _**How do I know you are not lying to me?**_

The massive snake _snorted._ Slytherin or otherwise, someone had _definitely_ taught it human expressions, because that was far too similar to human amusement to be natural for a giant snake.

 _ **Humans lie because they are not strong enough to tell things as they are. I have no fear of you young speaker, why would I tell you any different from what I know?**_

And it made sense, in a snakish kind of way.

 _ **Alright, if you are here to protect the students, then can you tell me how to stop this heir of your master?**_

The basilisk's head cocked to the side. _**I will do so as long as master's heir is not killed or permanently harmed, do we have an accord?**_

* * *

When Amelia Bones received a frantic floo call at one in the morning, she was not happy, not happy at all. At least until the flustered wizard running the auror night shift managed to get out that Dawlish was dead, had been killed in one of the Hogwarts corridors. Then she was just plain terrified.

"Send messages to every active member of the forensics division and night shift hit-wizards and have them prepared to leave within fifteen minutes!" She snapped before shutting down the floo connection and sprinting toward the closet containing her work uniforms. Thankfully their forensics division was small, only a handful of qualified wizards and witches, so she would have less irritated people to deal with.

She and her escort arrived through the headmaster's floo at precisely 1:24. A grave Albus Dumbledore was waiting for her, and it was a sign of how dire the situation was that he did not offer her a greeting, only lead her to the body of Dawlish.

The body was prone, lying on its back with blank unstaring eyes. Amelia suppressed a shiver. She knew that look. Killing curse.

Amelia had never really liked Dawlish, thought him a self inflated prick if she were to be honest with herself. But that did not mean she wanted something like this to happen to him, in _Hogwarts_ of all places. This was a _school_ , not a battleground!

"When was he discovered?" She bit back a snap at a teary looking Pomona Sprout, who looked at Dumbledore as he nodded reassuringly. .

The herbology professor hiccupped before forcing out "Around 12:50."

Amelia nodded to Edgar Graves, her leading forensic expert and he kneeled beside the body, wand held aloft in a scan. He frowned, then ran the scan again.

"Edgar?" Bones questioned, in a tone that seemed to ask _Is there a problem?_

"Director, I am not seeing any killing curse residue at all." He said, looking at the body.

 _That can't be right_. Amelia thought. Killing curse residue took _days_ to leave its victims bodies, and Dawlish had been dead for at most a few hours. "What caused his death then?"

Graves frowned, then waved over one of his associates as he jerked his head to the side. Amelia followed him over, knowing he didn't want to say it in earshot of the Herbology professor.

"I haven't seen anything like this since the early sixties when we had that rash of dark artifact murders." Unsaid was the fact that an artifact powerful enough to kill someone without leaving a trace would be _immensely_ powerful and dangerous. Amelia's eyes widened before her expression hardened and she gripped her wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" She intoned, and her patronus, a loyal Irish Terrier, appeared in front of her. "Go to Croaker, tell him we need the help of the department to find an incredibly dark artefact."

* * *

Harry made his way out of the pipe and back into Myrtle's bathroom, mind spinning at the revelation that a first year, red-headed and female with a red and gold tie, had been responsible for the death of Dawlish. There was only one student he knew that fit within that criteria, Ginny Weasley. But her family was as light as they came; was she a bad egg or was there something else going on?

The Basilisk had constantly referenced the heir as a he, but Ginny obviously wasn't male. So was she working with someone else or being controlled by them?

He made his way back through the corridors, only to freeze at the large procession of grim-faced wizards and witches, several of them in dark blue and black concealing robes with an hourglass and two wands stitched on the back. One of them was carrying a small black journal as if was poison, a piece of silk wrapped around it while everyone else gave him a wide berth. And another _was levitating an unconscious Ginny Weasley._

He was too late.

For a moment, he contemplated trying to free Ginny, but knew it was an exercise in futility. The secret was already out, and it was doubtful that he was strong enough to take out a fully trained auror, let alone at least ten of them. Plus whoever the people in concealing robes were.

Worried and disappointed, Harry returned to his dorm and changed for bed. Sleep was a long time in coming.

* * *

Harry groaned as he woke up early that morning. He had barely gotten any sleep after he got back in bed, mind racing over everything that had taken place. A large part of him had just been gibbering in relief that he hadn't needed to fight a fifteen meter long basilisk. A basilisk that had been forced to follow the bidding of it's master's heir.

That was another thing, he felt an irrational urge to keep the basilisk a secret. Or maybe it wasn't so irrational, knowing that it had been responsible for the death of Dawlish. Even if it was ordered to kill him, the Basilisk would be killed by the Ministry in turn f they found out. He couldn't bring himself to be responsible for it's death when it had only meant to protect the students.

His head fuzzy from the lack of rest, he decided to forego his morning exercises and go back to sleep. It was a shock to him and Justin that he had to be shaken awake at eight.

"You alright Harry?" Justin asked, wondering if Harry was sick or something. He _never_ slept in this late.

Harry moaned lowly and tried to bury himself back in his sheets, but Justin wasn't having any of it.

"Come on Harry, breakfast!" Justin shook his shoulder a little roughly, and Harry groaned grumpily. He did not want to go to breakfast, knowing what he did about the events last night.

Unfortunately, his stomach had other ideas, letting out a loud rumble at the thought of food, so he moodily swung out of bed and grabbed his uniform for the day. Today was going to be awful, he just knew it.

* * *

Great Hall, January 26th

Harry watched around the Great Hall with a sinking feeling at the sight of the Aurors standing in a perimeter. More than a few students were whispering quietly not understanding why members of the wizarding police were at their breakfast.

Dumbledore was wearing very subdued clothing for the day, as were many of the professors. Though Dawlish's attitude toward their students had not endeared him to the professors, his death hurt and frightened them, knowing that if the circumstances had been different then it could have been them lying in the corridor last night.

''Students, if I may please have your attention." He called, and the students, feeling the strange tenseness in the atmosphere, quietened down almost immediately.

"It is my regret to inform you that your professor for Defense against the Dark arts was killed last night."

An uproar came over the hall at those words, until a stern looking auror with a monocle let out a cannon-blast charm from her wand. Dumbledore nodded to her. "Thank you Amelia."

"As I was saying, he was killed by a student possessed by an incredibly dark artifact. This artifact was not detected by the wards, and as such, the Aurors and Unspeakables are here to search the entirety of the castle for more such artifacts, to prevent such a tragic event from occurring again. Every common room will be searched, every stone of the castle turned over until we are sure that everyone within the castle is completely safe. " Regret tinged the words, easy for all to hear.

Somber whispers filled the hall as the students looked around them, wondering who could have been the one to be possessed. Harry noted that none of the Weasley family were currently in attendance, which meant they had likely been called away last night. No doubt their absence would soon be noticed.

"Classes are to be cancelled for the day in respect for Auror Dawlish. Defense classes will be self-study enforced by your heads of house until our replacement professor, one Remus Lupin, arrives." Harry noted that the Headmaster had not deigned to call Dawlish a professor, though he did not seem happy that the man had died either.

Harry mouthed the name Lupin, wondering why it seemed familiar to him, like something he had read or heard before. After a moment he mentally shrugged and decided to look it up later.

* * *

Soon enough, it got around the school that the Weasley family was nowhere to be seen. Given the loud presence of the Weasley twins, their absence was especially felt in the next few days. As was the lack of pranks.

All sorts of rumours persisted, some (mostly first years) argued in favor of Percy Weasley being the one to open the chamber, because no-one could possibly be that self-righteous without being possessed….right?. The older years knew better, especially those in Gryffindor.

Others argued that it was the youngest male Weasley, who had grown tired of having competition for all the food. And yet none of the rumors seemed to think that the sole female Weasley could possibly be responsible for the attacks.

As the days passed more and more of the students seemed to forget that it was a possession that had caused the attacks, not willful malice. Something that disgusted Harry, as the situation with Ginny Weasley seemed more suspicious with each passing day.

The Weasleys were a staunchly light family, to the point that they thumbed their nose at other traditions that they saw as barbaric in the wizarding world. They were considered _blood traitors_ for crying out loud! Why would any of them possess an item that dark, let alone bring it into the school?

No, something else was going on here, and though he did not know what, he knew that the Weasley family were going to be the ones to suffer for it.

* * *

Ginny felt her heart rend in two as her wand was snapped in front of her face, in front of dozens of members of the Wizengamot. She was expelled, forbidden from ever using magic again, from ever attending any other school in the British Isles. And she was forbidden from leaving the grounds of the Burrow for the next five years, Juvenile house arrest, so there was no way that she could go learn abroad.

And she was lucky to get that much, she thought miserably, looking at the multitude of stern faces looking down at her, their features indistinct through her tears. Originally the Minister wanted to send her to Azkaban for her "crimes", and it was only the intervention of Albus Dumbledore that prevented that from happening.

When she awoke in the courtroom she had no idea of what was going on. One night, she went to sleep, and the next thing she knew she was in this courtroom in chains, accused of killing an Auror!

Then Dumbledore had stepped in and said she was possessed by some kind of dark artifact that made her do the deed. Fudge didn't want to seem to listen to his argument, and had kept trying to move the trial directly to her sentencing, which was more than obvious to her. He was using her as a scapegoat, and no-one was even trying to do anything about it save her headmaster!

Ginny forced the tears back, looking as the remains of her wand were incinerated. She was little better than a squib now, and all over a diary that she had thought was her friend.

* * *

Lucius smirked at the evening prophet, the image of a frightened looking Ginny Weasley being stripped of her wand and of her rights as a full witch. That would show Arthur Weasley for authorizing those constant Auror raids on his manor.

He hadn't known the artifact he gave to the girl was capable of possessing her, but it seemed to have worked out perfectly, even killing one of the Minister's favorite upcoming Aurors. The Weasley family would be even further disgraced by this debacle, and Arthur would lose what little respect he had in the ministry.

Lucius reclined in his armchair, sipping a hundred and fifty year old red wine from his family cellar. He loved it when a plan came together.

* * *

January 28th

Harry, after waking early enough to get his morning exercises in made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, grumbling stomach forcing him forward. The Weasleys had returned to Hogwarts last night it seemed, given how the twins were already sitting at their house table, eating listlessly. Harry's heart sank when he realized that Ginny, who was always one of the first in her house to come eat, was not there, and that her brothers were looking in the direction of where she normally sat. What had happened to her?

He forced himself to eat, the food sticking dry in his mouth as other students filed into the hall. Many of them were gawking in the direction of the Weasley twins and now Percy as they sat together at the table, which Harry frowned severely at. Couldn't they see that the Weasleys were hurting?

The sound of flapping wings filled the air as the owl post arrived, a great number of them bearing the Daily Prophet.

Harry had actually cut off his subscription after the series of articles last summer, so the number of gasps that erupted from the students reading their papers made him more than a little curious.

Cedric was the nearest student he knew well with a paper. "Cedric, can I see that when you're done?"

Cedric looked up abruptly from what he was reading, his face unusually pale. "Sure, here Harry."

Taken aback at the reaction Harry opened the page, seeing a picture of a terrified Ginny Weasley and her wand being snapped in half. He could barely see the words on the page, the loop of the picture making it impossible for him.

The paper crackled as he held it tightly and he forced his hands to unclench, reading.

Ginny Weasley had lost all her rights as a witch, and was stripped of her wand and availability of schooling. The article explained that as she had been possessed by such a dark artifact, there was no telling how warped her thoughts could have become, and as such the Ministry was acting in the best interests of the public by removing her from their society. But the truth of the matter was there in her frightened eyes.

Rage, pure and unadulterated flowed through him as he finished reading. What a load of crock!

He knew from the Basilisk that Ginny was completely innocent. Her personality and magic had been so subsumed by that of Slytherin's heir that it believed her to be _male_ for his ancestors' sake, even when she had the body and scent of a female.

It infuriated him that the Minister had the gall to take everything from her but her life and family, all to be seen as a hero to the masses. His plate, filled with food, shattered, silencing the discussion at the Hufflepuff table.

Cedric watched in concern as Harry left the table, anger more than visible on the second year's face as the cutlery around him rattled. . With a concerned look toward John, he stood up to follow.

Harry could barely see straight he was so angry. What kind of person used an innocent girl like that, not even a teenager? What kind of society was he now a part of that would actually condone this kind of punishment without even knowing all the facts? Students who were coming to breakfast late gave him a wide berth as he nearly stomped back toward the common room.

"Harry!"

Harry whipped around, not wanting to talk to anyone right now. "What?!"

Cedric held up his hands in peace at the wild look in Harry's eyes "Calm down Harry, tell me what's wrong."

Harry shook his head, throat clogged with anger as he tried to swallow.

"Is it about the Prophet?" Cedric ventured, and could see the answer even before Harry nodded reluctantly.

Cedric looked to the portrait in front of them. "Harmony."

Madame Hufflepuff nodded, looking at Harry in concern before opening. Cedric had to nearly drag Harry to one of the couches, a few passing students giving them curious looks before Harry's angry stare scared them off.

With a muttered privacy charm, Cedric crossed his arms and lifted his head in question. Harry huffed lowly and let out a long breath from his nose in an effort to calm down.

"Sorry Cedric, that bloody Moron of a Minister has me really pissed off."

Cedric looked like he wanted to say something about language, but wisely decided against it.

"Why?"

At the simple question Harry spluttered before seeming to explode with noise. "Why? Because Ginny Weasley is basically persona non grata to the entirety of Magical Britain, all because of that one article! She is being punished for something that _she had no control over;_ because the Minister is using this whole episode to make himself look good for the rest of Britain that slimy goat-shagging piece of shite!"

Harry took a deep breath, more than ready to spew a barrage of insults before Cedric's raised hand silenced him , a slightly weary look on his face that looked like it belonged to someone years older.

"Harry, I understand why you're angry, but there is _nothing you can do_. The minister has a lot of power in our society, enough to arrest anyone deemed to be a credible threat to the realm and have them tried in front of a full court, even without martial law."

Harry gaped soundlessly. "How is that bloody legal? That goes against every law -"

"In the muggle world; I know Harry." Cedric interrupted, a resigned tone to his voice. "My dad works in the Ministry, so I know a lot about what goes on there. It is completely revolting, but there is nothing we can do. We're just students."

Harry shook his head violently, mind whirring as he tried to think of a way to get back at their Minister for this...this travesty toward justice.

It went against _everything_ he had ever been taught, by both his non-magical upbringing and his lessons from Moros. People in power just could not abuse those in their care in Lantean Society, it _just wasn't done!_ The rare few that tried would be arrested and imprisoned, or exiled to a remote sector of space without access to any advanced technology. No, this could not be borne, not while had anything to say about it!

Cedric watched in concern is Harry started to smile in a slightly creepy way. "Cedric, do you know of any Magical newspapers outside of Britain?"

Cedric hid a wince at the malice restrained in that tone before nodding as he realized just what Harry was planning. "I may know of a few."

"Good." Harry smiled, before directing a trio of drones currently exploring Hogwarts to head toward London. "Do you know where the Ministry of Magic is?"

Cedric's smile turned into a frown. "Why?"

Harry gently reached into Cedric's mind with his telepathy, picking out the image of a nondescript street and a phone booth, Cedric's father dialing M-A-G-I-C on the number pad before the phone booth sank into the ground.

"Just wondering if I could send some Howlers." Harry smiled innocently, directing the probes to find that location then wait for further instructions.

Cedric snickered lightly before shaking his head. "Sorry to burst your bubble Harry, but the Ministry is warded against Howlers, no-one has tried to send one in over a hundred years. "

Harry let his face fall and he huffed theatrically. "So those newspapers?"

Cedric shook his head almost fondly before rearranging in his bag and drawing a piece of parchment along with a quill.

* * *

Defense against the Dark Arts

January 29th, 2013

Harry's first impression of Professor Lupin was exhaustion. The man looked like he should be in bed sleeping off a bad illness, but instead was here to teach them only a few days after the death of Dawlish. Despite his tiredness, the man seemed to be quite happy to see them all.

His name also never ceased to amuse him, Remus, after the brother of Romulus, founder of Rome, raised by a she-wolf as a babe. And Lupin, for Lupine. He truly wondered if having thematic and/or alliterative names was intentional or just hilarious coincidence in the wizarding world.

"Good morning everyone."The prematurely aged man greeted. "My name is Professor Lupin, and I will be your teacher for the rest of the year. We'll see if I stay on longer than that."

* * *

February 12

Hufflepuff dorms

Harry smirked in satisfaction as one of the probes he had placed outside of the Minister's office recorded every word being said. His probes had managed to locate the trial transcripts from the beginning of the ministry itself, every word now available for him to use as he wanted. And since they had such a success with that, he had asked Moros to create an even dozen more drones to be sent to the Ministry to see what they could find.

Though a little disapproving over Harry's primary reason for wanting the probes, Moros had acquiesced, wanting as much information on the Ministry of Magic as possible. The details of Ginny Weasley's trial had angered him, but also made him worry for Harry and their future plans. They may have to leave before Harry finished his Magical schooling, though he hoped that the information they gathered would be enough to continue learning about magic.

They now had probes going through near every department except for the Department of Mysteries, which was somehow warded to keep the drones out even with phase shifting. Moros was particularly interested in how that was happening, while Harry was more focused on learning about every last dirty secret he could use to get the corrupt minister out of office.

It was particularly entertaining to listen to the minister's conversations. The office itself was warded heavily against entry, but had nothing to prevent eavesdropping, which was one gift horse Harry wasn't going to look in the mouth.

"We need to do something about this Dolores! The international papers are making a huge deal out of the Weasley Trial, and now she looks like the victim in all this, damned IMN muckrakers!"

Oh the irony of that statement. Since when was the Daily Prophet anything but a home for the British muckrakers?

Typically no-one in Hogwarts read newspapers from other countries, so Harry had discretely paid for a number of owls bearing the International Magical News through the Goblins, just to see how the students of Hogwarts took to reading the articles speaking against the actions of the Minister. To his delight, several students and their families had taken to subscribing to those papers as well, which was surely raising Fudge's blood pressure if he knew about it.

Fudge was currently ranting toward his undersecretary, one Dolores Umbridge. Nasty woman by all accounts, responsible for many of the more discriminatory laws toward those magical creatures deemed not human enough, such as werewolves. Once he was done with Fudge, he would certainly be moving on to her.

"Perhaps Cornelius, we need to find a way to distract the International papers." She simpered.

"And how do we do that Dolores?" Fudge demanded angrily, pacing back and forth. "The news loves stories like Weasley's!" he spat the name out.

"What of that event we were planning for after the world cup?" Dolores asked sweetly, as though Fudge had not just been shouting at her.

"The Triwizard Tournament?" Fudge seemed less angry now, actually considering the idea. "Yes, Dolores, that can work. If we host the tournament next year, then their focus will be on the tournament instead of that blasted trial! What would I do without you?"

Harry frowned, noting to research this tournament before stopping the recording. Fudge was feeling the pressure now, once his probes managed to get around the security wards around his office they would be able to see what else he had to hide.

* * *

March 5

Hufflepuff dorms

Harry clenched his fists until they were white, realizing now why the name Lupin had seemed so familiar to him. His parents' journals had been something he spent a great amount of time reading last summer, desperate to feel a connection to them other than the exaggerated stories in the history books.

Remus Lupin was one of his father's best friends, since the beginning of their Hogwarts years. So why hadn't he ever thought to look into his own well-being?

It was just another bit of proof that the only people he could trust were those that he knew personally, and even then that was somewhat objective. Moros he trusted with everything, while his friends did not know a thing about Moros except that he was Harry's 'Uncle'.

Harry exhaled sharply, deciding that he would not treat his professor any differently than before. If Remus Lupin refused to acknowledge the connection they had, then Harry would be more than glad to do the same.

* * *

May 22

Remus Lupin was exhausted, having spent the night before transformed under the influence of the wolfsbane potion. Still, he knew that he had to get to work on his papers, despite Minerva McGonagall offering to help grade while he was ill.

He stared at a piece of parchment in front of him, wondering if he should really use it again. With a sigh, he drew his wand and touched it to the parchment, a copy of a project that always warmed his heart with good memories.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."He intoned.

Spider-like lines moved across the paper, forming into the Marauder's map.

Lupin looked down at the dot labelled Harry Potter, regret lingering in his thoughts. Harry was so much like Lily. Inquisitive and intelligent, but very driven. Not like James had been in their earlier years. A fond smile crossed his face at the memories, their crazy pranks.

His particular favorite was the one they pulled in Gryffindor tower with a modified switching spell, swapping panties and boxers from the first few unfortunate students that left their dorms that morning.

Remus' smile disappeared as his eyes locked onto a name that should no longer exist.

A little dot with stylized rat paws was motionless on the map, the name Peter Pettigrew above it.

* * *

Remus sprinted toward the Headmaster's office, panic beating in his heart. What was going on? How was Peter alive after he was pronounced dead over ten years ago? And why was he in bed with one of the Gryffindor students?

Nausea curled in his belly at the thought, and slightly out of breath, he huffed out the password to the gargoyle before racing up the stairs.

"Remus, do come in." Dumbledore's voice sounded from behind the closed door.

Remus came running in, eyes wild, and the elderly Headmaster was taken aback at his appearance. "Remus, what-"

"Pettigrew is alive, and in the Gryffindor boy's dorms." He managed to get out.

Dumbledore's face looked at his own intently before spotting the parchment within his hands. "Ah, so that was how the Marauders were able to avoid trouble so easily." He mused, before his eyes hardened as the words sank in. Peter Pettigrew was alive.

In steps faster than expected of a man his age, he grabbed some floo powder and threw it in the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic, Aurors Office!"

Amelia Bones was starting to wonder if there was some kind of curse in Hogwarts after all, with all the crazy events that went on around the school. Really, Peter Pettigrew? She would see that when she believed it.

When she came through the headmaster's floo, she saw him and a man that had to be Remus Lupin. According to her niece he was the best defense teacher she had so far, even better than Dumbledore had been. The man's near amber eyes made her freeze in place, though Albus seemed perfectly at ease with the Werewolf next to him. What was the headmaster thinking, letting a werewolf teach children?

"Ah, good, the Aurors have arrived." Dumbledore spoke evenly, then gestured at the parchment in front of him. "Remus, will the enchantments allow it to be expanded?"

Lupin closed his eyes for a moment before he nodded."It should be fine for a few minutes, but I'd rather not chance it for longer than a quarter hour."

Dumbledore nodded gravely and pointed his wand at the parchment. It quickly grew three-fold, displaying what looked to be a map of Hogwarts. Amelia looked closer and gasped as she realized that there were small animated feet with names of the professors moving all over the map. Was this….?

"If you will look to the Gryffindor tower, you will see Peter Pettigrew is alive." Dumbledore said quietly, but the silence from the Aurors transfixed by the map was more than enough for him to be heard.

"How…?" Amelia asked.

"Though I do not know for sure, I would assume that he faked his death all those years ago." Dumbledore answered evenly. Amelia paled when she realized what that meant.

"Then Black?"

"Might even be completely innocent, we will not know until we learn more from Peter." Lupin spoke for the first time, his voice barely above a rumble. It was easy to see that he was furious, and vaguely Amelia remembered that Lupin had been friends with Pettigrew, Potter, and Black in school.

"But how has Pettigrew remained hidden all this time?" She demanded.

Lupin winced. "Peter, Si-Black and James were all illegal animagi, Peter was, is a rat."

Though her eyebrow rose at the admission, Amelia decided that they had wasted enough time as it was. "Auror Shacklebolt, take a team to Gryffindor Tower and apprehend Mr. Pettigrew, we want him alive."

"Yes Director." Shacklebolt replied, looking at Remus wonderingly before making a hand gesture. A pair of aurors followed behind him, three being a powerful number for groups in combat, or so it was believed.

* * *

The capture of Pettigrew succeeded with little fanfare. Dumbledore himself accompanied the Aurors to the Gryffindor portrait, which opened without even asking for the password.

The animagus was located sleeping on Ron Weasley's bed, and Dumbledore felt a swell of pity for the boy, deciding to keep his name out of the papers after what happened to his sister. It was almost as if the fates were conspiring against the Weasley Family.

With a whispered spell the rat was summoned then locked into an animagus restricting cage. He would have no way of escaping.

* * *

Lupin's amber eyes narrowed as they brought the rat up into the Headmaster's office. The map was back to normal size, and laying folded on the headmaster's desk. "That's Peter alright." His hands twitched as if he wanted to strangle the rat, not that Amelia could blame him. Pettigrew was more than likely to be guilty of something drastic if he had been hiding for so long.

"Good job." Amelia said. "Auror Shacklebolt, please take the prisoner to the interrogation block, and swear all of your men to secrecy." The tall auror nodded gravely and stepped into the floo with a curt "Ministry of Magic!"

Amelia's eyes narrowed in on every single auror left in the room. "If any of you even attempt to leak details of this night to the press, I will personally destroy your badge and any records of your retirement stipends, are we clear!?"

"Yes Director Bones!" came the quick and nervous replies. Amelia smiled at Lupin, who stared at her as if she were some kind of alien creature. "I would like to speak with you over the summer break Lupin, the Auror department could certainly use something like this map of yours for security, though I doubt that was it's original intention." Even if it was made by a werewolf, she could overlook that if the map proved useful.

Remus reddened, looking away from her stern visage. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good." She said, looking back to a visibly amused Albus and frowning at him. "Good day Headmaster, I will personally let you know of any developments."

"I look forward to them." Albus replied, eyes twinkling, and Amelia let out a breath as she grabbed the floo powder. "Ministry of Magic."

End Chapter

Whew, that was a long one. Let me know what you guys think.

And in the immortal words of Sir Issac Newton "Tact is the art of making a point without making an enemy."

Posted 12/3/16


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